


Heavy In Your Arms

by emeraldsandivy



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Modern AU, abuse fic, but also fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-08 22:04:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 37,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4322424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldsandivy/pseuds/emeraldsandivy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even in the most hopeless of situations, our fate will always find us. It doesn't always come in a flashy uniform carrying a shield. Sometimes it comes with something as simple as a hot cup of tea and a slice of rhubarb pie. However it comes, it's always exactly what we need.</p><p>Modern day AU where Angie is a waitress and Peggy is a writer in an abusive relationship. Possible trigger warning for later chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Somewhere, Somebody Needs A Reason To Believe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes front the song The Lost Get Found by Britt Nicole

Angie’s feet were killing her. Working a torturous open to close shift, the waitress had been standing all day, and she still had three hours to go until it was over. Right now, all she wanted was a hot bath and some peace and quiet. Unfortunately, a rather obnoxious regular was snapping his fingers in her direction and pointing down to his empty coffee cup. Heaving a weary sigh, Angie picked up the half-empty pot from the burner and strode over to the waiting customer.

“It’s about time sweetheart,” he complained. “I’ve been bone-dry over here for almost five minutes.”

Smiling tightly, Angie began to refill his cup. “I’m sorry for the wait, sir,” she apologized, “We had to wait on a fresh pot.”

The customer rolled his eyes and waved her away. “Yeah, yeah,” he scoffed. “Just don’t let it happen again, alright, dollface?”

Eyes narrowing at the nickname, Angie just managed to keep her composure. “Of course, sir,” she intoned through gritted teeth, turning on her heel and marching back off toward the counter.

As she was placing the pot back on the burner, she heard the familiar tinkling of the door, indicating that a customer had come in. 

“I’ll be with you in just a second, hun,” she called, grabbing a menu, utensils, and clean coffee cup, before turning around only to stop dead in her tracks. _Holy shit…_

Before her stood possibly the most beautiful woman Angie had ever laid eyes on, and she had seen a lot of them. Soft brown waves fell around beautifully angled cheek bones and a jawline that looked like it had been sculpted, accented by a pair of plump lips that were painted a sinful red. An elegant neck led down to a perfect hourglass figure wrapped in a green sweater with jean-clad legs that went on for days. Looking up, the waitress locked gazes with a pair of chocolate brown eyes behind black-rimmed glasses that were looking at her with a hint of reserve and reluctance.

Snapping out of her daze, Angie put on the first genuine smile she’d showed all day and walked up to the woman.

“Good evening,” she greeted. “Welcome to The Griffith. Will it just be you tonight, or are you expecting company?”

Clearing her throat the woman glanced around the dining area for a moment before speaking. “It’s just me tonight,” she replied, her smooth British accent tumbling from her lips like poetry.

_Whoa there, Martinelli. Reel in the gay just a bit._

“Alright then, if you’ll just come with me, we’ll get you a seat,” Angie smiled, walking toward the small tables at the front windows.

“Wait!” the woman practically shouted. Jumping slightly, the waitress turned around to stare at her.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, looking down in embarrassment. “I just—I’d prefer not to sit by a window, if that’s alright.”

 _Strange._ “Of course, ma’am,” Angie nodded, changing her direction for a table toward the back and placing the menu down the one furthest from the windows. “Is this okay?”

The woman smiled in something close to relief. “Yes, this is perfect,” she said, sitting down.

“Great,” Angie said, setting down the utensils and coffee cup. “My name is Angie and I’ll be your server tonight. I’ll give you a few minutes to look over the menu, but is there anything you’d like to drink?”

Biting her lip, an action Angie thought shouldn’t be allowed from someone that beautiful, the woman looked at the waitress with an almost apologetic smile. “You wouldn’t happen to have tea, would you?” she asked quietly.

“Absolutely,” Angie replied with a smile of her own. “Coming right up.” And with a final nod of her head, the waitress headed back to the counter, while the woman perused her menu.

As she bustled around to the different tables to check on her other customers, Angie kept her eye on the mysterious brunette in the corner. For some reason, something just felt off for the waitress, though she couldn’t quite figure out why. The British woman sat straight-backed in her chair as she gazed down at the menu, hands folded neatly in her lap. And then it happened; the thing that made Angie feel like something wasn’t quite right.

Not for the first time, the brunette lifted her gaze from the menu, eyes darting around the restaurant, as though she were expecting something to jump out at any moment and attack. What was most unusual to Angie, however, was that, as the woman’s chocolate irises jumped around the dining area, she rubbed at her right wrist with slender fingers, red nails sometimes snagging on the fabric of her sweater.

Still trying to figure out why the particular action bothered her, Angie made her way back to the brunette’s table, hitching a smile back onto her features. 

“You ready to order, hun, or you need a few more minutes?” She asked, setting the tea down on the table and catching the woman by surprise.

“Oh! Yes, sorry,” she replied, her gaze snapping back to her menu. “I’d like the chicken Caesar salad, with a cup of tomato and basil soup, please.”

Angie took down the order and held out her hand to take the menu. As the woman reached her arm forward, the sleeve of her sweater slipped up her forearm just enough that the waitress could see the redness from where the brunette had been rubbing at her wrist. However, that wasn’t what caught her attention. Among the discolored skin, Angie swore she could make out shade of something else, almost like fingerprints wrapped around the delicate skin.

Before she could examine the marks any further, the English woman retracted her hand as if shocked and pulled her sleeve back down over her wrist. Realizing that she had been staring with wide, scrutinizing eyes, Angie quickly recovered herself, pulling the smile back onto her pink lips, this time with effort.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” she asked, as if nothing had happened.

The brunette stared down at her hands in her lap. “No, thank you,” she responded without looking up at the waitress.

Taking that as her cue to leave, Angie tucked her pencil behind her ear and nodded. “Alright, I’ll get this put in right away.” And with one last glance back at the woman, she turned and made her way back to the counter, slipping the order through the kitchen window for the cook.

The evening only got more awkward and uncomfortable from there. Whenever Angie approached the brunette’s table to deliver her meal or check on her, the woman would simply nod without looking up and assure her server that everything was fine. Multiple times, the waitress would watch as her gaze would lift and dance around the room almost frantically, all the while rubbing her fingers over the skin of her wrist. The action would only reinforce the image of the angry marks she had glimpsed against the pale skin.  
When Angie had cleared her dishes and asked about dessert, which the woman refused, she printed off the bill and approached the table once more, check in hand, the tension as palpable as ever.

“Can I get ya anything else?” she asked softly, placing the bill holder on the table.

The English woman just shook her head, still refusing to meet the waitress’ gaze, and reached forward to take her check. She quickly stuck her card in the inside pocket and passed it back to her server.

“Okay,” Angie smiled sadly. “I’ll take care of this real quick and be right back, then.”

Quickly sliding the car through the machine and entering the amount, she put the bill into the system before returning to the brunette’s table, where she had begun gathering her things, still keeping her gaze well below eye level. 

“Here you are ma’am,” Angie said, placing her card back on the table. “Thank you for coming in tonight, I hope you enjoyed your meal and that you will come back and see us again.”

Standing quickly, the brunette nodded, still not looking up at the other woman. “Yes, thank you,” she murmured. “Have a good evening.” And with that, she brushed past Angie and walked toward the door.

Watching her go, the waitress could see the slump in the English woman’s gait as she slowly made her way to the exit. With her feet practically dragging beneath her, it seemed to Angie that she didn’t really want to leave, like she was scared of what was waiting for her on the other side of the glass doors. Before she could stop herself, the waitress hurried in her direction and placed a gentle hand on the woman’s elbow, causing her to jump so violently, Angie was amazed she hadn’t cried out.

“Look, honey,” she began, tentatively. “I know it ain’t any of my business, and I’m not going to pry, but I can tell something is going on. If you ever decide you want to talk about it, I’ve got a hot cup of tea and a slice of rhubarb pie with your name on it, alright?”

For the first time since accidentally revealing the marks on her wrist, the woman met Angie’s gaze, tears threatening to spell from the chocolate irises. A few moments of silence hung between them like unanswered secrets, before, without warning, the woman reached out and pulled the waitress to her in a tight hug.

“I’ll remember that,” she whispered, barely audible, before releasing a stunned Angie and giving her a sad smile.

And with that, the brunette made her way to the door and disappeared out into the gathering darkness, leaving Angie unsure of what had just happened and whether or not she would see the beautiful English woman again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been wanting to write this fic for a while now. I'm going to have to learn to juggle it with another story I'm currently working on, so please bear with me if updates aren't always consistent.
> 
> This is going to be a heavy story, so be prepared for angst and domestic abuse in future chapters. I'll make sure to alert you to any trigger warnings.
> 
> I always name my stories and chapters after songs, so bonus points if you know what they are!
> 
> I'm emeraldsandivy on tumblr, feel free to visit!


	2. Don't You Know I'm Afraid of Thunder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS!!  
> This chapter contains possible triggers for domestic abuse and rape.
> 
> Chapter title comes from the song I Feel Everything by Idina Menzel

Peggy Carter walked back to her apartment complex from The Griffith in the cool night air, the New York City lights blazing the path before her. She could have taken the subway, but the evening was comfortable, and, truth be told, she didn’t want to rush home any faster than absolutely necessary. She gazed up into the smoky sky; the nearby lights from Times Square flickering through the shadows, as she walked with slow, dragging steps to her home.

It was never supposed to be like this.

Peggy had come to New York from London five years ago, looking for work as a writer wherever she could find it. After two years of freelance jobs, one of her pieces about the ongoing covert war between Russia and the United States, dating back to conflicts from the Cold War, caught the attention of many national newspapers, including The New Yorker and The New York Times. When The Times had come calling with a job offer for her as one of their writers on foreign affairs, Peggy nearly fainted. She accepted immediately, hardly believing her good fortune.

Unfortunately, her luck was about to take a drastic turn. After working her way up as one of the senior writers in foreign affairs, Peggy caught the attention of someone else. Jack Thompson was a consultant for The Times for anything involving domestic criminal affairs. He was a senior officer for the New York City Police Department, believed to be next in line for chief.

He had approached Peggy with kind words and a charming smile, complimenting many of her pieces, particularly one regarding the displacement of Syrian refugees during their country’s civil war. He was handsome, all fair features and dazzling teeth, and Peggy knew he was turning the charisma on a little higher just for her, but he seemed decent and sincere. She agreed to go on a date with him. Then another. And another. Each outing seemed to further confirm her first impression, as he opened doors, pushed in her chair, and never pressed his advantage. Perhaps he sometimes drank more than necessary, but it was only the occasional mishap that Peggy was able to overlook. After seven months, Jack asked her to move in, an invitation she accepted with enthusiasm.

However, Peggy learned quickly that Jack was not at all who he presented himself to be to the outside world. Out of uniform, behind closed doors, he was cruel and sadistic, possessive and jealous. Worst of all, he was an alcoholic with an abusive streak. Now that Peggy was, as he viewed it, his property, Jack took no issue in exerting his dominion over her; hitting her when he felt like it, forbidding her from seeing anyone, demeaning her, and yelling at her for anything he viewed as fault. One evening, she had come in late from work, wanting to finish up a few reports, and he had backed her against the wall by her throat and screamed accusations of infidelity until his voice was hoarse. Peggy had needed to wear a scarf to work for the next week.

But what could she do? He was a city officer, handpicked to be the next chief, and, to the rest of the world, the perfect image of what a police officer should be. There was no proof to Peggy’s accusations except her word, and her word was hardly enough to convince anyone, a fact Jack took great pleasure in reminding her of whenever he could. Even if she showed anyone the marks he sometimes left on her skin, who would believe her? He would just make her out to be an up-and-coming writer looking for a break. He had all the cards, all the power, and they both knew it. She was trapped.

She stuck her keys in the door, as quietly as possible, and stepped silently into the apartment, hanging her purse and keys on their hook by the entrance. It was as if nothing was amiss. The television was still on, ESPN still echoing through the apartment, and Jack seemed to be passed out on the couch, full glass of scotch on the table and the empty bottle tipped over on the floor, right where she had left him. She breathed a sigh of relief.

Peggy never normally left the apartment when Jack was home. He wouldn’t allow it, convinced that she was sneaking off to spend time with someone else. However, he had come home already drunk, slurring something about celebrating a major drug bust with the boys as he broke open the bottle, pouring himself a generous measure. After about an hour, he had soundly passed out on the couch, snoring over the sounds of SportsCenter. Giving it another twenty minutes, just to make sure he was well and gone, Peggy grabbed her purse and made her escape.

All she wanted was a night away from the drinking and the yelling…and the pain. What she hadn’t anticipated was compassion. Particularly in the form of a tiny waitress named Angie with a pronounced Brooklyn accent and eyes that could see right through you. She had been so kind and all Peggy had wanted to do was tell her everything, but she knew that wasn’t an option. She could deal with Jack directing his anger toward her, but she would not risk putting the waitress, Angie, in the crosshairs. This was her life, and she would not condemn it on anyone else.

Sitting down in the chair next to the couch, Peggy pulled her phone from her pocket and looked for something to distract her. She didn’t dare change the channel on the television, for the fear of waking Jack. Not only would he be angry at being woken up, but she also wanted as much peace from his presence as she could get. Settling on Trivia Crack, Peggy had been playing the game for about fifteen minutes when she noticed Jack stirring out of the corner of her eye.

She immediately put her phone away, knowing he would accuse her of talking to someone else while he had been asleep, and trained her eyes on the television, putting on an expression of interest to mask her fear.

Lifting his head to squint around the room, Jack’s eyes settled on Peggy, agitation evident on his face.

“What am I doing on the couch?” he slurred, rubbing the sleep out of one eye.

Peggy braced herself for a moment before turning to answer. “You came home from work and fell asleep,” she explained tentatively.

“And you were too stupid to think about waking me for dinner, or anything?” he accused, his eyes beginning to narrow threateningly.

“You seemed tired, so I decided to let you sleep,” she explained, trying to keep him calm. “After all, you worked so hard on that drug bust today.”

He studied her for a moment before merely answering with a grunt and sat up on the couch, eyes trained back on the television as he picked up his glass. Peggy let loose a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. It seemed the worst had passed.

“Are you hungry?” she asked, wringing her hands anxiously. “I can throw something together if you need me to.”

Jack didn’t answer right away. The sound from the television filled the silence, and the tension grew with every passing second. It was never a good sign when Jack was quiet, and it made her nervous about whatever was floating around in his head. Finally, he looked at her, and it was always enough to make Peggy flinch inwardly. There was a glint in his eyes that was all too familiar and made her heart drop into her stomach. The worst had not passed; it had just simply not yet arrived.

“No,” he said, standing, swaying slightly. “I have something better in mind.”

Taking a final swig of his scotch, Jack dropped the glass back onto the table with a loud _clunk_ and walked menacingly in Peggy’s direction and pulled her up roughly from her chair. He backed her up down the hallway and, finally, into their bedroom until the back of her legs hit the mattress. She kept her head down, eyes on the floor, until Jack grabbed her chin and forced her face to tilt up. When she still did not raise her eyes, he gave the underside of her jaw a sharp smack. Peggy’s eyes snapped up to his, cold and threatening, a cruel smirk on his lips.

“That’s better,” he growled, intoxication seemingly gone, replaced with animalistic hunger.

Stripping her clothes unceremoniously, Jack looked her up and down, as a wolf would its prey, and reached around to give her a hard slap on the ass. Wincing slightly, Peggy’s cheeks began to burn with humiliation. She never felt loved or cherished with Jack, only ashamed. She felt herself turned around and shoved down onto the bed. There was a brief moment of reprieve when Peggy heard the rustling sound of clothes being discarded. Coarse hands were suddenly around her wrists and pinning them above her head. Biting down on the pillow beneath her, Peggy braced herself as best she could. He took her roughly from behind, always from behind, and moved in and out of her at an excruciating pace until he had finished and the pillow between her teeth was left with a wet stain from the combination of her tears and saliva. 

With a final groan of satisfaction, Jack rolled off of her and collapsed onto his side of the bed. Peggy stayed deathly still, willing him to fall asleep, and, after a few minutes, a snore filled the room, joining the stale scent of alcohol and sex. Taking a slow, deep breath, she rolled over carefully until she could sit up and her feet hit the floor. Rising gingerly, Peggy ignored the pain radiating through her body and tiptoed slowly to the door, feeling the warm, sticky fluid Jack had left behind sliding down her legs with each agonizing step. 

After what felt like an eternity, she finally reached the bathroom and closed the door behind her with a soft click, knowing Jack was now far too gone to hear anything. Silently, she cleaned herself up, removing all traces of the encounter that she could, but knowing that not all the filth had remained on the surface. She washed her face last, squeezing her eyes shut as she rubbed the soap into her skin and rinsed it away with water, as if everything were that simple. As she toweled herself off, Peggy remembered the waitress. Angie. When she looked up into the mirror, she saw, not her own reflection, but a pair of bright, turquoise eyes and a wide, inviting smile. Peggy smiled back, reaching forward to touch the reflection.

But as quickly as it appeared, the image faded away, leaving Peggy staring back into her own reflection, broken and miserable, hand still raised in mid-air. She gazed into her own eyes for a few moments, before the marks on her wrist caught her attention. She brought her arm down to run her fingers over them, a trophy she’d earned from Jack after she’d knocked a vase over while cleaning. Peggy remembered accidentally revealing them to Angie. She remembered the wide, shocked eyes. She remembered the shame she’d felt in allowing her secret to slip.

Then she remembered the kind words and the sympathetic eyes. She remembered the promise of pie and tea and a listening ear. She remembered the feeling of being cared for, something she had forgotten so long ago. She looked down at her bruised and beaten body, tears welling up in her eyes. Angie had no idea who she really was, and if she did, she would run in the other direction. Peggy wished it wasn’t that way, that everything could be different, but fate had never been kind to her. 

So, remembering everything she wanted, but could never have, Peggy did the only thing she could: she slipped to the floor, pulled her knees to her chest, and cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, guys. I'm so sorry. And this isn't the worst thing I have planned, either. Just bear with me, we'll get through this, it will get better. Eventually.
> 
> If you'd like to direct any hate my way you can find me on tumblr at emeraldsandivy  
> Please come and say hi, I love getting to know everyone :)


	3. I'll Give You All My Pieces Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING!!!  
> This chapter contains possible triggers for domestic abuse!
> 
> Chapter title comes from the song Stitch By Stitch by Javier Colon
> 
> P.S. There are so many references in this chapter. So many nerdy references.

With ten minutes until closing on a Thursday evening, Angie had set about wiping down the tables and counter. She was the last waitress left on the shift and she could hear Johnny, the night cook, clearing away in the kitchen, as eager to get out of the place as she was. As she watched the steady swiping of her hand, Angie felt her mind wandering back to a familiar subject that had been occupying her thoughts every evening as she cleaned up.

It had been three weeks since Angie had seen the fragile and mysterious British woman that had left her dazed in the wake of a bone-crushing hug before disappearing into the night. Angie had begun to doubt that she would return, though every night she still hoped to hear the gentle tinkling of the bell and see her standing in the doorway.

_You’ve got it bad and you don’t even know her name._

Angie glanced back up at the clock; five minutes to go. Sighing in resignation, she moved back behind the counter and turned to refill the napkin dispensers for the next morning, when, as if fate had read her thoughts, she heard the door squeak open and the ringing of the bell echo through the empty dining area. Before she could call out a greeting, Johnny’s head poked into view from the serving window, a look of annoyance on his face.

“Hey lady,” he snapped. “It’s closing time, we ain’t taking any more customers.”

Angie glared at him, silently reprimanding him for being so rude, when the voice behind her made her freeze.

“Oh,” it began timidly. “I’m terribly sorry, I was just hoping to speak to Angie for a moment.”

At the sound of her name, Angie whipped around, her lips stretching into a smile.

“You’re back!” she exclaimed, but once she caught sight of the English woman, the smile slipped from her face.

She looked like a kicked puppy, shoulders slumped and their eyes on their usual spot on the floor. She kept fidgeting with the strap on her purse, as if she were trying to twist the life out of it. What really caught Angie’s attention, however, was the slight bruising around her left temple and cheekbone. Johnny wouldn’t have noticed it, but the light layer of makeup didn’t fool Angie.

“Johnny,” she called to the cook, eyes never leaving Peggy. “Why don’t you head home, I’ll finish up here.”

Johnny eyed Peggy suspiciously, looking between her and Angie.

“You sure, Ang?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Angie turned to give him a reassuring smile. “I’ve got it.”

With a final glance a strange English woman, Johnny turned and made his way toward the back exit into the alleyway. Angie watched him go and didn’t speak a word until he was out of the building, the door latched behind him. She turned back toward Peggy, who was still gazing at the floor.

“You wanna sit?” Angie asked quietly. Her answer was a subtle nod, and the woman moved forward and slid onto one of the bar stools.

Appraising the woman before her, Angie was silent for several moments, before turning without a word and disappearing into the kitchen. Peggy watched her go, uncertainty churning in her stomach, as she listened to the various sounds of cupboards opening and closing and dishes being arranged.

 _What am I doing here,_ she thought desperately. _This is only going to make things worse. What on earth was I thinking?_

Just as she had made up her mind to leave before Angie returned, the door to the kitchen swung open and Peggy found a slice of pie and hot cup of tea being placed in front of her.

She looked up at the waitress blankly, unsure of what to say. Thankfully, Angie broke the silence between them.

“Just as I promised,” she said. “Rhubarb pie and tea, on the house, and someone to listen.”

Still, Peggy continued to stare back at Angie, tears gathering in her eyes. It had been a long time since she’d been on the receiving end of genuine compassion. She was truly at a loss for words.

Sensing her struggle, Angie leaned against the countertop and gave the woman a smile. 

“Let’s start small,” she suggested. “For starters, I don’t even know your name.”

Peggy blinked. Embarrassment flooded her cheeks as she realized the truth in Angie’s statement. She’d been thinking about the woman practically non-stop and had even sought her out in refuge tonight, and she hadn’t even so much as introduced herself. 

_Bloody idiot, she probably thinks you’re crazy._

Shaking the thought from her head, she focused back on Angie, who was smiling patiently.

“Peggy,” she murmured, clearing her throat before speaking a bit louder. “Peggy Carter.”

Recognition dawned upon Angie, as her smile grew wider. 

“Wait a sec, I know you,” she said, excitedly. “You write for the Times, right?”

Peggy started slightly, unaccustomed to people recognizing her for her work. After all, Jack didn’t like to be overshadowed.

“Oh, yes…that’s me,” she stammered. “I didn’t realize my work was that well known.”

This time it was Angie’s turn to blush.

“I, uh, well, I don’t actually know much about foreign affairs,” she admitted. “I started reading your columns, because I thought the girl in the photo next to it was really cute.”

Peggy felt her mouth drop open in surprise. She stared at the waitress; shocked that anyone would find her attractive, let alone another woman. She felt a strange fluttering in the pit of her stomach, but pushed it aside, refusing to allow herself to get her hopes up.

_It was just a silly compliment, not a marriage proposal._

Angie giggled at Peggy, whose mouth was still hanging open in a comical display. Gently, she reached out and, with two fingers, pushed Peggy’s chin back up to her upper jaw.

“Close your mouth, English,” she teased. “You ain’t a codfish.”

Peggy blushed again, looking down at her plate of pie and still steaming tea. She stared at it for several moments, before Angie’s voice broke through her thoughts again.

“It ain’t poisoned, ya know,” she joked, pushing the pie a little closer.

Smiling, Peggy, tentatively pick up her fork and took a generous slice of the pie and stuffed it into her face. A satisfied moan escaped her lips as her eyes slipped closed in enjoyment. Angie watched her in amusement for a few moments before speaking again.

“So what’s an English rose like you doing in New York,” she asked while Peggy continued to chew.

Peggy swallowed and took a sip of tea before answering, choosing her words carefully. 

“I came here for work,” she began, slowly. “I’ve always wanted to be a journalist, and New York boasts some of the best newspapers and magazines in the world.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Angie nodded. “Say what you will about the city, but we definitely know how to cultivate the creative arts around here.”

“What about you,” Peggy inquired. “I can’t imagine you came here to be a professional waitress.”

“Hardly,” Angie scoffed. “I’m an actress, or at least I’m trying to be, but it’s some stiff competition out there.”

“Well,” Peggy smiled. “I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before Broadway comes calling.”

Angie snorted. “And how would you know that?” she giggled. “You been spying on me rehearsing when I ain’t looking?”

Peggy grinned widely, enjoying their banter. “Of course not,” she reassured. “I can just tell.”

“Just a cockeyed optimist, aren’t ya, English,” Angie teased with a wink.

Peggy paused before responding, her smile faltering just slightly.

“I wouldn’t quite say that,” she murmured softly.

Angie studied her, noting the sudden change in her mood, though Peggy tried valiantly to hide it. She let the English woman enjoy her pie and tea for a bit longer, sitting in the comfortable silence before she took a deep breath and a leap of faith.

“So, what really brings you in here tonight?” she asked gently, once Peggy had put her fork down on her empty plate. Her gaze traveled back over the hidden bruising around her temple and cheekbone.

Peggy didn’t say anything for several moments, staring at the counter, her brow furrowing in concentration. When she finally did look back up at Angie it was with an almost apologetic look on her face.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to talk about it yet,” Peggy admitted. “I just remembered your offer and the thought of a nice conversation sounded wonderful.”

Angie nodded slowly in understanding. “Alright,” she began. “I get ya, English, but you know I was offering more than just a pleasant conversation, right?”

Peggy smiled. “Yes, I know,” she said. “I’m just not sure I’m ready to be that brave yet.”

Her choice of words caught Angie off guard, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion. What did she mean by brave? Quickly, Angie recovered herself, and placed a small smile back on her lips.

“Well, then,” she said, reaching out and placing her hand over Peggy’s resting on the counter. “I work the evening shift every Tuesday and Thursday. There’s always a slice of that pie, hot tea, and good conversation waiting for you, until you’re ready to show me how big your brave is, okay?”

As tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, Peggy turned her hand around in Angie’s and squeezed it gratefully. “Okay,” she whispered with a smile.

And so it became their routine. Jack worked late on Thursday’s, so Peggy was able to stop by The Griffith for a quick dinner and a chat before rushing home to have something ready for Jack. Angie knew that Peggy had someone waiting for her at home, but was never told much more than that. She had her suspicions, however, that things weren’t quite right. She was always happy to see Peggy, in fact, it was the best part of her week, but she couldn’t help the feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach every time Peggy walked out of the diner for another long week.

The night they first met stayed present in the back of Angie’s mind; the marks on Peggy’s wrist and her unusual, almost paranoid behavior. Peggy never did bring it up again and Angie never asked. She knew it wasn’t her place, but, still, whenever she caught a glimpse of a new mark on Peggy’s skin, questions balanced dangerously on the tip of her tongue. She always made sure to swallow them back down, but they tasted like bile in her throat.

Peggy, on the other hand, was happier than she had been in months. Thursday was, more often than not, the highlight of her week, and it was liberating to know that she could have a few hours to herself where she could just relax and have a nice conversation with her friend. She’d grown quite fond of Angie, and her company, bringing with it the feeling of butterflies in her chest whenever she walked into The Griffith and received one of Angie’s mega-watt smiles. She wasn’t sure if she was genuinely developing feelings for the waitress, or if it was just a side effect of someone actually being excited to see her, but she wasn’t one to overanalyze her happiness.

Tonight, she was in a particularly good mood, as she and Angie were laughing over her latest audition, during which one unfortunate young woman had been midway through her dance routine when she miscalculated a step and fell right off the stage onto the director’s lap.

“And then,” Angie giggled through the tears in her eyes. “She looked him square in the eye and said, ‘At least I fell into the best seat in the house.’”

“She didn’t!” Peggy exclaimed, her eyes growing wide.

“I thought he was going to explode, his face was so red,” Angie said, catching her breath. 

Peggy shook her head in mirth, before checking her watch. She had an hour and a half until Jack would get off work. She fished the money for her bill from her purse and slid it toward Angie.

“I’d love to hear more, but I’m afraid I have to head home and get dinner ready,” Peggy sighed, standing up. “I’ll see you next week?”

Angie smiled, taking the money. “Sure thing, English,” she affirmed. “Take care of yourself, until then.”

It was a little thing, but Angie always liked to say it for some reason when they parted each week. Peggy nodded and gave her a small wave before leaving the diner.

It was a crisp evening, and a light breeze was dancing through the trees along the sidewalks. Peggy pulled her coat in a little tighter as she walked home, a slight spring in her step that was always present on the days she saw Angie. She joined the mass of people making their way into the subway and caught the A train by just a few minutes. Fifteen minutes later, it had deposited her just a block from her apartment complex, and she picked up her pace, rubbing her cold hands together in the frigid air.

When she reached the building, she glanced at her watch. She still had about forty-five minutes until Jack got home, expecting his meal on the table. That gave her just enough time to whip up a casserole. She quickly climbed the stairs, grateful for the warmth the movement provided.

She hoped Jack would be in a good mood tonight. She knew he’d been working on a case involving the underground weapons mob. She could usually tell how the case was going based on his attitude when he returned home every night. Lately, she gathered it had been going very well. He’d been almost pleasant during the past week, hardly raising his voice at all. 

Reaching her door, she unlocked it and slipped into the apartment, dropping her keys back into her purse. She pulled off her coat and deposited it on the hook, reaching up once more to hang her purse with it, but it didn’t quite make it that far.

“Where the hell have you been,” a cold voice greeted her from the living room.

Peggy’s purse slipped from her grasp and fell with a soft _thunk_ onto the floor. Her blood turned to ice in her veins and she squeezed her eyes shut as she turned around, tensed for the worst.

“You’re home early,” she said, trying to keep her tone light despite the fear bubbling up inside her.

Jack stood up from the couch, clearly drunk, judging from the sway in his stance and slur in his words. He looked menacing in the dim light from the television.

“We finished up early tonight,” he growled. “ Now answer the damn question: Where the hell. Have. You. Been?”

The way he clipped his words shot a thrill of fear through Peggy that she had never experienced with Jack. She knew he was capable of violence, but the venom that dripped from every syllable made her realize that he was capable of so much worse. She knew if she didn’t come up with a good enough excuse soon, she would find out exactly what “worse” was. 

“I…I…,” she stammered, searching for anything to calm the rage that was radiating off of him. “I had to do a follow-up on a piece I’m writing.”

Jack stalked toward her, until his chest was within inches of her nose and he was towering over her, the stench of the scotch on his breath filling the space between them.

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” he snarled. “Where were you? Who are you screwing?”

“Nobody,” she pleaded. “I told you I was--“

Peggy did not get to finish her sentence. From seemingly nowhere, the back of Jack’s hand cracked against her jaw, sending her sprawling to the floor. She lay there, dazed and in shock, as Jack’s shadow descended upon her. She was granted only a moment’s reprieve before she felt herself being yanked up by her hair, until she was looking into Jack’s dilated eyes. 

“After everything I’ve fucking done for you, this is how you repay me?!” he yelled, his words slurring together. “Who the hell do you think you are?!”

Peggy could only whimper in response, the pain in her scalp becoming unbearable.

In one fluid motion Jack jerked Peggy up to full height and flung her away from him with full force. Unable to catch her footing, Peggy’s right ankle twisted beneath her, as she fell blindly, her hip bone slamming into the corner of the coffee table on her way down. Crying out in pain, she tried to push herself into a sitting position, but Jack brought his boot up to the center of her back and forced her back down. Using the toe of his shoe, he kicked Peggy over onto her back and stood over her for a few moments, watching her breathe raggedly and clutch at her hip. Crouching down, he curled one hand around her throat and pulled her up until she was within inches of his face, her fingers clutching desperately at his tight grip. 

“You’re nothing but a worthless piece of shit,” Jack hissed. “Nobody would even care if you were dead.”

His last words sent a thrill of icy dread through Peggy’s veins. With force enough to make her see stars, she was thrown back against the floor, her head landing hard against the wooden boards. She wasn’t granted even a moment’s reprieve before she felt another hard smack to the side of her face, further disorienting her. When her vision focused, she caught a momentary glance of Jack standing over her, rearing his leg back, before the toe of his foot connected with her stomach. With the wind knocked out of her, Peggy could only curl in on herself, absorbing every blow for what felt like hours, until, with a final kick to the small of her back, everything stopped.

She lay there in a daze, tears spilling over the bridge of her nose onto the wooden floor, waiting for the next kick to land, but it never came. After several minutes of calm, she slowly raised her throbbing and aching body into a semi-sitting position. Jack had evidently tired himself out, as he was now facedown on the couch, snoring lightly, as if the last ten minutes had not happened. Peggy hoped he smothered himself in the pillows.

Moving as quietly as she could, Peggy half-crawled, half-dragged herself down the hall and into the bedroom, locking the door behind her. She could feel her body protest with every movement she made, and she didn’t even want to think about the bruises and marks that were already forming up and down her skin. She knew there was no way she could go to work tomorrow.

Finally making it to the bed, she pulled herself slowly onto the mattress, on top of the covers and still fully clothed. The tears on her cheeks had long since dried, and all she was left with was the hollow feeling of hopelessness. What was she supposed to do? She couldn’t leave. Where would she go? Who would believe her? Jack would just come after her. He had the might of the police department behind him. And then he would never let her forget. He was right; nobody would care if she were gone.

As her eyes began to close from exhaustion, a distant memory came to her through the fog.

_“There’s always a slice of that pie, hot tea, and good conversation waiting for you, until you’re ready to show me how big your brave is, okay?”_

Peggy’s eyes snapped open and a gasp tumbled from her lips. In the violence that had greeted her this evening, she had completely forgotten about the one person that would care if Peggy disappeared. She had one spark of hope left in her, after all.

Peggy took a moment to plan everything through in her hazy thoughts. Tomorrow was Friday, which means Angie would be working the early shift. If she would somehow be able to get her body to cooperate in the morning, Peggy would be out of the apartment before Jack even knew that she was missing. Not that he’d notice.

But what if he did? He would come after her and stop her; drag her back home, if he had to. A shiver ran down her spine at the thought of what he would do when he got her back behind closed doors.

No. She had to do this; tonight had finally opened her eyes. She couldn’t live like this any longer. She wouldn’t survive. So, she at least had to try, if not for herself then for Angie. She owed her that much.

Finally allowing eyes to slip shut, Peggy felt herself to fall into a restless sleep. She would ache down into her very bones tomorrow and people would stare at the mottled bruises covering her skin on the subway, but knew what she had to do. 

This was her moment. 

It was her turn to be brave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to direct any hate or angst my way, you can find me on tumblr at emeraldsandivy.


	4. I'll Be the Mess, You Be the Medicine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from the song Fix Me by Icon For Hire

Drawing in a breath had never been so painful in her life. Managing to pull herself into a sitting position, the sharp stab of protest to her lungs reminded Peggy of the horrors of the previous night. Trying not to dwell on the memories, she tested her right foot, which had swollen considerably overnight. She could only manage her weight for a few moments, but it would have to be enough to get her to The Griffith. Her body screamed in protest with every little movement, but it only spurred her on. She had to get out of this place. For good.

Listening carefully, Peggy could discern no sounds of movement coming from the apartment. Glancing at the clock, she could see that it was 9 o’clock in the morning. Jack should be long gone by now. Hobbling over the door, Peggy opened it quietly and slowly poked her head out. The place was empty; she was alone.

Not wanting to waste another moment in what she hardly considered a home, Peggy quickly packed a few clothes into a small bag, not bothering to change out of her outfit from the previous day, and swung it over her shoulder. She limped out into the living room, grabbed her purse, and shut the door behind her, refusing to look back.  
  


* * *

 

  
The diner was absolutely swamped; the morning shifts usually were. The sounds of the talking patrons, cutlery on plates, and busboys clearing tables filled the space with a cacophony of sound that was familiar in the early morning. Every few minutes the bell over the front door tinkled, adding to the din, announcing the arrival or departing of customers.

Angie had been at work for about two hours and she hadn’t stopped moving since the back door had swung shut behind her. She flitted from table to table, taking orders, delivering food, and refilling coffee. At each chime of the bell, she turned with a smile to greet the new customers. In short, she really needed a break.

Glancing at the clock behind the counter, she saw that her first break was still about twenty minutes away. Heaving a sigh, Angie turned back toward a customer waving her over, pointing at his cup. Picking up the fresh pot of coffee, she strode over and filled his empty mug.

“Thanks, hun,” he smiled up at her suggestively.

 _Ugh, it’s far too early for this shit,_ she thought, wishing she could smack the smug grin from his face. Instead she just gave him a sweet smile and returned to the counter.

She had just turned around to pin another order to the kitchen window when the bell rang through the diner, only this time it was followed by a quiet hush that came over the entire diner. The clattering of forks and knives slowly stopped and silence reigned through the restaurant, as every head slowly turned toward the entrance.

Confused, Angie picked up another order that had just been shoved through the window and turned around to see what had everyone seemingly frozen in place. When her eyes feel upon the person that had walked through the door, eyes trained toward the floor in familiar fashion, she dropped the two plates in her hands to the ground with a smash, food splattering onto her shoes and ankles.

Peggy, quiet, beautiful Peggy, was standing at the door looking as though she had just been through a war. A nasty, purple bruise took up the majority of the right side of her swollen face and her elegant neck was imprinted with the large, red shadow of a hand that nearly reached all the way around to the back. Angie also noticed that she was hunched forward more than normal and was favoring her right leg.

The world stood still for several moments; Peggy staring at the floor while the rest of the diner stared at Peggy. Finally, Angie came back to her senses, turning toward the kitchen window. Mike, the morning cook, was now standing at the opening, his mouth open in shock, having stepped up to the window to ask what the hold up was on the orders.

“Mikey,” Angie hissed, snapping her fingers so he would look at her. “Call Colleen and have her come in. I’ll take care of this.”

“You sure Ang?” he asked. “Colleen ain’t gonna be too happy about it.”

Angie rolled her eyes with a huff. “Yeah, well there are more important things to me right now than interrupting her beauty sleep,” she retorted. “Just call.”

And with that, Angie untied her apron, leaving it on the counter for Colleen, and walked toward Peggy, the whole diner following her every move. For her part, Peggy barely acknowledged Angie’s approach, still gazing at the ground with intent. Only when Angie laid a gentle hand on her unblemished cheek, did Peggy look up, finally meeting the other woman’s gaze.

“Come on, honey,” Angie murmured. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Peggy nodded gratefully, leaning into the touch. Angie wrapped and arm around Peggy’s waist and steered her back out the front door into the mid morning sun, not even sparing a parting glance to the still silent diner.

They did not speak during their entire walk to Angie’s apartment, only a few blocks away. Angie did take note of Peggy’s limp and ragged breathing, and kept their pace slow. Peggy wasn’t sure where they were going, at first, but found that she couldn’t bring herself to care. Any place away from the stares and the whispers she’d endured all morning would be a welcomed haven, at this point. Only when Angie guided her to the steps of a worn out building of studio apartments, did Peggy realize she was taking her home.

 _Well, Angie’s home, anyway,_ Peggy thought.

The stairs were slow going. Peggy’s body still screamed in protest with every movement, and her twisted ankle could hardly support her weight after her trek to the diner. Angie tightened her hold around Peggy’s waist and ducked under her arm to take on the full weight of Peggy’s right side, half-carrying her up to her apartment.

It took the better part of ten minutes, but Angie finally got Peggy up two flights of stairs and into her home. Setting her down on the couch as gently as possible, Angie straightened up and walked over to the kitchenette, placing the kettle on the stove and fishing around for some tea bags that she knew were in the cupboard, but hardly ever used unless she was sick. When she finally located the box of tea labeled Earl Grey, she ripped one from it’s package and pulled out a cup, placing the bag in the mug and picking the kettle up off of the stove before it had a chance to start whistling. She poured the boiling water and let the tea steep for a few minutes before she walked back to the couch and placed the steaming cup in front of Peggy. She sat down on the opposite end of the couch, folded her hands in her lap, and patiently waited until Peggy was ready to speak.

After several moments, Peggy picked up the tea and stared down into the swirling steam before taking a small sip, still not saying a word. Curling her fingers around the mug, relishing in the comforting heat, she thought for a moment longer before clearing her throat and saying the only thing that would come to her mind.

“Thank you,” she whispered, still not looking up. “For the tea.”

Angie smiled sadly. “You’re welcome, hun,” she murmured, nodding.

Silence fell between them once again. Patient though Angie was, she started to grow restless, desperately needing an explanation as to why Peggy had shown up at her work looking as though she had just been through hell and back. After a few more moments, she spoke up, hesitantly.

“Peggy,” she began, softly. “What happened?”

Eyes still downcast, Peggy struggled to find her voice, opening and closing her mouth several times, before finally managing to speak.

“I’m afraid that I’m not at all who I’ve been pretending to be, Angie,” she muttered, her voice cracking slightly.

Leaning forward, Angie placed her hand on Peggy’s forearm. “What do you mean?” she asked gently.

Dropping her head into her hands, Peggy’s voice became thick with emotion and tears started to fall from her eyes, dripping onto the hardwood floor.

“I mean I’m not this woman with the perfect relationship and perfect life,” she explained. “Every single moment, I live in paralyzing fear.”

“Fear of what, honey?” Angie asked quietly, slipping her hand around Peggy to rub small circles into her back.

“Of him,” Peggy choked out. “Of Jack and of everything he could do to me.”

Suddenly a light bulb turned on in Angie’s mind.

“Wait…” she said, slowly. “ Did he…did he do this to you?”

A broken sob bubble up from Peggy’s chest as she nodded her head. Angie felt her concern turn to anger, as she imagined this vile man and what he did to make Peggy so afraid of him. However, she pushed those thoughts aside, knowing that it was the broken woman in front of her that needed her full attention.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Angie asked, carefully.

Peggy wiped her nose on her sleeve and tilted her head toward Angie, just barely glancing at her.

“What do you want to know?” she asked, thickly.

 _Everything and nothing,_ Angie thought, steeling herself for what she knew was going to be a brutal story.

“Why don’t you start from the beginning,” she suggested, taking her hand from Peggy’s back and reaching over to lace their fingers together, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.

And so Peggy started from the beginning, some of which Angie already knew: Moving from London to become a writer, working freelance before getting a job with the Times. The rest, she had purposefully kept from Angie: Meeting Jack and moving in, the control and abuse, the constant fear, and, worst of all, the rape.

“It’s like I’m something less than human,” she sobbed. “Like I’m his property.”

“Peggy,” Angie soothed. “That’s not true, he doesn’t own you.”

“But he does!” Peggy insisted. “Nobody else will believe me, and he knows that! He hangs it over my head, taunts me with it. He can do whatever he likes with me, because he knows I have nowhere else I could go.”

Finally breaking, Peggy leaned into Angie and cried. She clutched to the other woman’s shirt as sobs ripped through her chest, echoing around the small apartment. Angie held her close, curling an arm around Peggy’s waist and running her other hand through her hair. She did not whisper reassurances in her ear, because Angie knew there was nothing she could possibly say to make things all right. Such words would only lessen and trivialize what Peggy had been living through, and Angie knew, despite her constant optimism, that sometimes there were just terrible people who did terrible things because they could, and it was often the most fragile souls that got caught in the crosshairs. So, Angie stayed silent and was content to hold Peggy close, knowing that she needed a loving touch far more than she needed loving words.

That sat like that for a while, Peggy’s sobs eventually dying down into shallow breaths. They only let go when Angie extracted herself to grab Peggy a tissue from the side table next to the couch. Peggy took it gratefully as Angie rubbed small circles on her back.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Peggy sniffed, her head falling into her hands.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Angie answered her. “You’ll stay here,” she insisted.

Peggy began to protest, but Angie held up a hand to stop her.

“No, I mean it,” she continued. “You can’t go back to him and, like you said, you have nowhere else to go. I’m not gonna throw you out when you need me most. He won’t find you here.”

Peggy blinked back the tears that were stinging at the corners of her eyes.

“But what about work?” she asked. “I can’t just not show up, and it will be the first place he looks.”

“Call and tell them you’re sick and that you’ll work from home,” Angie suggested. “I mean you can write your column without having to go into the office, can’t you?” 

Peggy considered for a moment. It was true that Jack would not know where to find her. She had been careful of not mentioning Angie in any of their conversations, and he’d had no idea she’d been going to The Griffith for dinner every Thursday. And Angie was right; she had nowhere else to go.

She looked back at Angie, her eyes so full of earnest, and wondered what in the world she had ever done to deserve someone who cared for her as much as the petite brunette in front of her. After several long moments of deliberation, Peggy finally nodded in agreement.

Angie let out a sigh of relief that she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and pulled Peggy into a careful hug. She’d grown to care for the English woman so much, and she wasn’t sure what she would have done if Peggy had rejected her offer and gone home to Jack. Now that she knew what had been going on beneath the surface of Peggy’s reserved façade, Angie was determined to be everything for her that Jack was not. Peggy deserved far better than that.

When they finally let go of each other, Peggy sniffed and brushed the stray tears from her cheeks, Angie keeping one hand on the small of her back. They didn’t say anything for a while, until Angie finally stood and broke the silence.

“Come on, English,” she coaxed. “Let’s get you into a nice, hot bath.”

Out of energy to do anything other than comply, Peggy nodded and allowed herself to be led into the bathroom. Angie sat her down on the toilet and turned on the faucet, letting the water warm up before plugging the drain. As the bath filled, Angie turned to help Peggy peel off her clothing. Her heart clenched at every gasp of pain that tumbled from the English woman’s beautiful lips.

When they finally had Peggy stripped to her underwear, Angie had to fight the urge to be sick. Peggy’s ankle was a nasty shade of purple and swollen to twice its normal size, and her entire lower torso was splotched with black and blue marks. Now that there was no clothing in the way, Angie could more clearly see the handprint that encircled Peggy’s neck and a few marks around her wrists to match. She had never seen a person look so beaten down and defeated.

“Oh, Peggy,” she breathed.

Peggy didn’t reply, just kept her eyes downcast in shame.

When the tub had finished filling, Angie switched off the faucet and offered her hands to Peggy, helping her out of the rest of her clothing and carefully in the tub, mindful of her twisted ankle. As Peggy sank into the scalding water, a quiet moan of relief tumbled from her lips. Angie added a few bath salts to the effect and then sat down on the floor, resting her chin on the edge of the bath and a hand on Peggy’s forearm.

“What happens now?” Peggy murmured, looking worried.

“I don’t know, but we’ll get it figured out,” Angie promised, smoothing back the hair from Peggy’s face. “One day at a time, hun.”

Peggy nodded and leaned her head back against the tub, finding comfort in the hot water and Angie’s hand resting on her arm.

“One day at a time,” she agreed, closing her eyes and just reveling in the quiet and affection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm emeraldsandivy on Tumblr. Come say hi!


	5. I'll Be the Shelter That Won't Let the Rain Come Through

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much fluff, you guys. SO. MUCH. FLUFF. 
> 
> Chapter title comes from the song Remedy by Adele. It's off of her new album, which is ah-mazing and you should definitely get it if you haven't already.

It had been three weeks since Peggy had agreed to stay with Angie. She’d managed to convince her boss that she had come down with a serious case of pneumonia and would be working from home. Luckily, he had told her to take all the time that she needed to recover, but with time wearing on, Peggy knew she couldn’t use it as an excuse for much longer. She’d have to think of something, and quickly.

Angie had been accommodating to everything Peggy had needed, far more than the English woman could have hoped, and she learned right away that Angie’s generosity was not something that could be contained. The day after Angie had brought her home, she’d gone out and bought Peggy some new clothes. Though Peggy had tried to protest, Angie stood her ground and argued that Peggy could not live on the few articles of clothing she had stuffed into her shoulder bag when she’d left Jack’s. Peggy had smiled at her stubbornness and conceded defeat.

“How did you even know my size?” Peggy had asked, looking through the bags. 

“I’ve got my ways, English,” Angie teased, tossing a pair of jeans at her. “Now change, so I can throw what you’ve been wearing in with the laundry.”

When Angie had tried to give Peggy her bed and sleep on the couch, after the two had spent the first night together in Angie’s room, Peggy had objected so strongly that she had nearly been driven to tears. Angie relented and it had been their sleeping arrangement ever since. It wasn’t the largest bed, but, truth be told, Peggy hadn’t felt as safe as she did sleeping next to Angie in as long as she could remember. After that first night, the bed would have only felt terribly empty without Angie lying beside her. Not that Peggy would ever admit it; she was too afraid of what Angie would think about the growing butterflies in her stomach. However, there were small moments that made her think Angie was experiencing the same feelings; the tender way she helped Peggy wrap her bruises every morning, drawing her a bath every night, attentively listening to Peggy ramble on about whatever she was writing about in her column. However, none were as convincing as what she had experienced a few nights ago

In the early hours of the morning, Peggy had awakened for a reason she could not place, at first. However, when she tried to roll over to check the time, she found herself trapped by a slim arm around her waist. Turning her head slowly, Peggy found herself pulled firmly against Angie, her breath tickling the stray hairs at the base of her neck. Her heart sped up in her chest, and when she had tried to wiggle free and create more space, Angie merely pulled her closer.

“Angie?” she had whispered softly, but she was only answered with silence. 

She thought briefly of shaking the other woman to wake her, but something stopped her. She’d not been held this lovingly in so long and she had missed the warmth of another body pressed tenderly against hers. She knew she shouldn’t take advantage of Angie’s subconscious like this, but what the waitress didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, so Peggy had closed her eyes and snuggled deeper into the covers and Angie’s embrace. Whether or not Angie had known, she did not say.

Most touchingly of all, however, was that Angie had rearranged her schedule so that she only worked the morning or day shifts, making sure to be home with Peggy every evening and cook her dinner. She tried to brush it off as nothing, claiming that she rarely got to cook for anyone but herself and that Peggy looked like she could “use a good meal or two.” However, Peggy wasn’t fooled; she knew that Angie wanted to make sure she wasn’t alone at night, especially on the very rare chance that Jack found out were she was. Of course, Peggy wasn’t going to complain, especially when Angie’s food was some of the most delicious she’d ever had. Such were the perks of living with an Italian.

Currently, however, Angie was not home. She had told Peggy that she would be late; needing to stop by the store for some ingredients for the Bellito di Carne she was making for dinner. Peggy had no idea what that was, but if Angie was making it, she was sure it would be delicious.

While she waited, Peggy had curled up on the couch with her laptop to work on her latest piece, a commentary on the Syrian refugee crisis in the wake of the attacks in Paris. She was about three-quarters of the way through the first draft, when she heard keys jingle in the lock. Setting her work aside, Peggy stood to greet Angie at the door and help her manage the groceries to the counter. However, when the door swung open, all Peggy could see was a small stack of white boxes and a few brown bags hanging from a slim arm.

“Uh, Angie,” Peggy called, jokingly. “Are you in there somewhere?”

“Ha ha, English,” Angie replied with some strain. “Now help a girl out and take some of this weight off of my arms.”

Chuckling, Peggy reached forward and relieved Angie of three white boxes that were obscuring her vision. The waitress’s face finally came into view, pink from a mixture of the cold outside and the exertion from carrying everything up to the apartment.

“Thanks,” Angie huffed. “It was getting hard to balance those along with the groceries.”

Peggy stepped aside to let Angie through the door and placed the boxes carefully on the table to help put the food away and start dinner. While Angie did most of the cooking, Peggy still liked to be helpful, so she would dutifully chop, mince, and stir whatever Angie asked, listening to the waitress chatter on about her day at work or latest auditions. Every now and then, during a lull of conversation, she would hear Angie humming and stop to listen to the beautiful voice, until Angie would realize what was happening and playfully whack a grinning Peggy with whatever cooking utensil she was holding. This was easy, this was everything Peggy had ever wanted: a warm home with someone to love.

 _Wait, what?_ Peggy thought, coming to a sudden halt. _Did I just say love?_

Before she had time to contemplate the implications of that word, Angie’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.

“Hey, Peg,” she called over her shoulder from the stove. “I’ve got this all covered, could you take those boxes over to the bed for me?”

“Oh, uh, yes, of course,” Peggy stumbled over her worlds, earning a strange look from Angie. However, before she could ask what was wrong, Peggy picked up the boxes and walked them briskly toward the bed in the opposite corner of the apartment.

In her haste, Peggy’s right ankle, still tender from the twist it took from Jack, turned slightly, causing her to stumble and scatter the boxes onto the floor, one of them popping open.

“You alright, English?” Angie’s voice drifted over from the kitchen, the sound of steps following the question.

Peggy stood slowly from the kneeling position her misstep had thrown her into and waved her off.

“Perfectly all right,” she assured Angie. “Just took a wrong step is all.”

Angie looked at her warily for a few more moments, making sure she was okay, before turning walking back to the stove.

Testing her ankle, Peggy found it smarted a bit, but was manageable, much to her relief. Turning toward the dropped boxes, she picked up the first two, stacking them onto the bed, before bending to collect the base and lid from the one that had burst open. In her endeavor, Peggy found herself gazing at what was unmistakably a new dress, its neat folds come undone from its sudden meeting with the floor. Brow furrowing in confusion, she gathered the box up and placed it, still open, atop the other two packages, and ran her fingers across the soft material.

Checking to be sure that Angie was still preoccupied, Peggy removed the dress from the box and held it up to examine it more fully. It was a deep crimson that was rather form fitting and looked like it would fall to just below her knees. The neckline was rimmed in silk and cut rather tastefully with three quarter sleeves cuffed in the same material as the neckline. It was gorgeous.

“Angie,” Peggy called, still staring the dress up and down, taking in every detail. “What’s this for?”

Peggy heard muted footsteps as Angie traveled across the room and poked her head around privacy screen that separated the bed from the rest of the apartment.

“What’s what for?” she asked, wooden spoon still in her hand. She stopped when she saw what Peggy was holding and looked away, a blush spreading across her cheeks.

“Oh, that,” she said, clearing her throat. “Well, I just, uh, I remember you mentioned that you used to love to go dancing, and I know you don’t want to go out and have everyone staring at you and, ya know, your bruises, so I kind of just figured that we could have a night to ourselves, not worry about work, and we could dance without having a hundred people gaping at you.”

Peggy merely listened as Angie rambled, her expression growing more tender with every word.

“Anyway,” Angie continued. “I saw that when I was out shopping and I thought it would be perfect for you; match your lips and bring out your eyes. Just because it’s just us doesn’t mean we can’t still get dolled up.”

Peggy remained speechless, touched by Angie’s thoughtfulness. She only realized she had remained silent for too long when Angie spoke up again.

“I’m sorry,” Angie mumbled, twisting her hands around the wooden spoon. “I shouldn’t have assumed, it’s okay if you don’t want—“

Peggy cut Angie off by wrapping her arms tightly around her shoulders, feeling Angie’s encircle her waist. 

“I think it’s a wonderful idea, Angie,” Peggy whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “Thank you.”

They stood there for several minutes, just leaning into each other in contentment, before Angie released her grip and took a step back, the blush still faintly on her cheeks.

“Okay, well” she stammered, clearing her throat and picking up one of the other two boxes. “Why don’t I finish dinner, and you can get changed, and then we’ll have a girl’s night in, yes?”

“Sounds perfect,” Peggy smiled warmly. She watched Angie hurry back, box in her hands, over to the food, noting the slight spring in her step as she went.

Chuckling to herself, Peggy picked the dress up once more and swept her eyes back over every detail. Angie’s stubborn generosity was something that she would never get used to, but she had learned to accept it all the same.

Stretching out the privacy screen to block her from the rest of the room, Peggy began to make slow work of removing her clothing. While her bruises had faded considerably, she was still tender in some areas, causing a few of her movements to remain a bit limited. Finally, she managed to pull her sweater over her head and step out of her track pants. Studying the dress, she found that it zipped in the back, making it easy to step into, but she would need Angie’s help with the rest. She pulled the smooth material up her body, slipping her arms into the sleeves and marveled at its comfort. She had expected something so snug to feel constricting.

Keeping the dress pressed to her body, she folded back the privacy screen just slightly.

“Angie,” she called. “Could you help me for just a moment?”

She heard an enthusiastic “Sure, hun!” followed by the sound of Angie’s muffled steps coming her way. She must have toed off her shoes by the door since returning to the kitchen. Moments later, Angie rounded the screen and stopped short, openly staring Peggy up and down a few times before recovering, clearing her throat.

“What do ya need?” she asked, her voice, Peggy noted, slightly strained. 

“Just some help with the zipper,” Peggy explained softly, turning around and pulling her hair aside.

Angie felt her breath catch in her chest at the sight of the generous expanse of Peggy’s back and she had to steady herself against the privacy screen.

 _“Bellissimo,”_ she breathed reverently.

“I’m sorry?” Peggy inquired. “I didn’t catch that.”

“Oh, nothing,” Angie recovered quickly, reaching forward for the zipper. “This just looks really nice on you.”

She pulled the zipper up Peggy’s back, trailing her fingertips slowly across the nape of her neck to brush her hair back into place. She thought she felt Peggy shiver slightly, but decided it was all in her head.

“All set, English,” Angie murmured, smoothing down the shoulders of the dress.

Peggy turned slowly, a mysterious twinkle in her eye, as she smiled down at Angie.

 _“Grazie,”_ she whispered, almost delicately, as if she were revealing a great secret.

Rooted to the spot, Angie felt a rush of heat travel up the back of her neck. They stood there, neither one willing to break the moment, but not knowing exactly where to take it. Finally Angie took a deep breath.

“Peggy, I--,” she began, but was cut off by the sound of a buzzer coming from the kitchen. “Shoot, the beef!”

She rushed from the bedroom space, leaving Peggy standing there to wonder at what had just transpired between them. Should she go after her?

 _No,_ Peggy thought. _The moment’s gone. Perhaps you’re just imagining things, anyway_.

She finished dressing, more subdued than before. She kept her choice of shoes simple, black ballet flats, so as not to further aggravate her ankle. After brushing her hair out, grateful that the curls at the bottom still had a bit of bounce to them, she touched up her makeup, adding the aforementioned red lipstick for affect. Once finished, she stepped back and looked at herself in the mirror, smoothing out the front of the dress. For the first time in the last month Peggy found that she rather liked the person staring back at her, and she knew it wasn’t just because of the dress.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled back the privacy screen, but found the room deserted. Noting the closed door, she guessed Angie must be in the bathroom. Making her way over to the stove, Peggy lifted the lid from the pot and inhaled deeply, letting out a soft sigh at the heavenly aroma.

“Trying to sneak a taste, English,” Angie’s voice sounded teasingly behind her, causing her to jump. “I could have your fingers for that.”

Placing the lid back onto the pot, Peggy turned to offer up a clever retort, but it died on her tongue the moment she saw Angie.

Standing a few feet behind her, hands on her hips, Angie was a vision in a solid black, sleeveless cocktail dress, belted at the middle, and matching oxford heels. She had pulled her hair back into a loose bun with curled tendrils softly framing her face. Her smoky eyes and light pink lipstick completed the picture perfectly.

“Wow,” Peggy breathed. “Angie, you look fantastic.”

Angie giggled and bit her lower lip in a way that Peggy felt would be her undoing.

“Not so bad yourself, Peg,” she winked, her smile widening. “Can you set the table, and I’ll finish up with the food?”

Willing her body to make some kind of movement, which it had not done for the last several moments, Peggy nodded and began to move around the kitchen, and Angie, pulling plates from cupboards and silverware from drawers. At one point, she had accidentally brushed her breasts against Angie’s shoulder blades in their attempt to work around each other, causing them both to gasp, and freezing in place, before Angie cleared her throat with a soft, “Sorry, English,” and continued her movements. Once the table was set and the food with it, Angie poured them some wine and sat down opposite Peggy and served them their food.

They ate silently for a while, before Peggy asked about Angie’s day, which never failed to get the waitress talking about her time at The Griffith and all of the rude customers she had to endure. Today’s rant was rather passionate, as a young man had somehow found the gall to not only treat Angie as if she were his own personal waitress, but also then try to coerce her for some kind of reward, if he gave her a decent tip.

“I felt him try to slip his hand around my waist,” Angie was explaining, gesturing wildly. “So, I gave him the sweetest smile I could come up with and dug my heel into the toe of his shoe.”

“You didn’t get in trouble, did you?” Peggy asked, mopping up the remaining juice from her stew with a piece of bread.

“Not too much,” Angie shrugged. “Mrs. Fry said I could’ve handled the situation better, but she didn’t blame me for standing up for myself. You done with that?”

“Oh, yes, thanks,” Peggy said, handing Angie her plate. She stood and grabbed the remaining food from the table, putting the leftovers in the fridge, while Angie cleaned their dishes.

Once everything was clean and the stew pot was soaking in the sink, the two women stood awkwardly for a moment, before Angie smiled and grabbed Peggy’s arm, pulling her over to the stereo and stack of CDs against the far wall.

“Now, I do believe the reason we got all fancied up was so that we could go dancing,” Angie said, bowing slightly. “So, why don’t you do the honors, Miss Carter, and pick something for us.”

Peggy smiled and shook her head at Angie’s bravado, carefully kneeling down to look through Angie’s collection. It was an eclectic mix, everything from showtunes to rock, to classical. She scanned through the numerous titles a few moments when a familiar name caught her eye.

“You like Caro Emerald?” Peggy asked, looking up with a grin.

Angie’s face lit up with excitement. “Yeah,” she nodded. “She’s one of my favorites!”  
Peggy pulled the CD from the case and stuck it into the stereo, hitting the play button, so that the sounds uptempo jazz filled the apartment.

“Well, then,” she said, standing and turning back toward Angie. “Let’s dance.” 

They spent the next twenty minutes bouncing around the apartment, performing everything from twirls, to the moonwalk, to the Bernie. At one point, Angie crossed in front of Peggy, swaying her hips in such a way, that Peggy could help but rest her hands against them and guide Angie’s movement for a few seconds.

After a while, however, Angie slowed down and walked over to the stereo and hit the stop button.

“Sorry, English,” she apologized. “But I need a break from moving around so much.”

“Don’t tell me you’re already tired,” Peggy teased, resting her hands on her hips.

Angie scoffed playfully, picking up another CD. “Absolutely not,” she insisted. “I just think we need to slow down for a bit, and I have the perfect music in mind for that.”

She fed the disc into the stereo and hit play, looking over at Peggy with a smile as a single piano chord struck out into the apartment.

_Hello,  
It’s me…_

Peggy laughed. “Adele, Angie?” she shook her head. “I thought we wanted to have some fun, not cry into our glasses of wine all evening.”

“Hey now,” Angie admonished. “The new album isn’t depressing at all. It’s actually got some happy, upbeat stuff.”

“Like what?” Peggy challenged.

Angie turned and hit a few buttons, silencing the music just at the crescendo, giving way to a plucky acoustic guitar.

 _This was all you,_  
_None of it me,_  
_You put your hands on, on my body_

Angie swayed over towards Peggy, grabbing her hands, and dragged her forward, stepping in time to the beat, as they spun around and danced in unison, never letting go. They giggled like children as the music guided their movements, thumping through the stereo until they could feel it in their chests.

 _Send my love to your new lover,_  
_Treat her better._  
_We’ve gotta let go of all of our ghosts,_  
_We both know we ain’t kids no more_

Breathless yet again, Angie stopped and hit pause on the stereo.

“As much fun as this is, English,” she said, panting slightly. “I think we really do need to slow it down for just a bit.”

She pressed a few more buttons and turned back toward Peggy, extending her hands, as another piano melody rang out, this one a bit more cheerful. Peggy took them and felt her heart constrict and the butterflies flutter more violently as Angie slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her in closer. They were quiet a for a bit, while they swayed around the room, eyes never leaving each other, until Angie broke the silence.

“You’re a really great dancer,” Angie complimented. 

“Thank you,” Peggy replied shyly. “I normally never slow danced like this. I was usually just by myself or with a group.”

“Why not?” Angie asked. “You seem like a natural, and anybody would be crazy not to want to dance with someone like you. What else was missing?”

Peggy looked down, before taking a deep breath and meeting Angie’s eyes.

“The right partner,” she whispered.

Angie stopped moving, halting Peggy with her. Everything stood still and the only sound in the apartment was coming from the stereo, from which the melody still flowed, as if it could sense the emotion in the air.

 _When the pain cuts you deep,_  
_When the night keeps you from sleeping,_  
_Just look and you will see_  
_That I will be your remedy._

“Peg, I…” Angie began, but Peggy cut her off before she could finish.

“I’m sorry, Angie,” Peggy stammered, taking a step back and rubbing at her wrist. “I shouldn’t have presumed. It’s just…you’ve been so kind to me, even since we first met, and it was something I’ve always felt I didn’t deserve.”

When Angie didn’t respond right away, Peggy continued on her ramble.

“You’ve shown me more care and respect than I’ve ever experienced,” she admitted, her eyes falling to the floor. “I’m sorry. I would hate to jeopardize our friendship, or take advantage of your kind—“

Before Peggy could finish her thought, Angie reached forward and laid a gentle finger against her lips.

"English," she teased. "You talk too much."

A light blush spread across Peggy's cheeks, but she remained silent. Weighing her options, Angie removed her finger from Peggy's lips and reached down to take hold of her hands, squeezing them reassuringly.

"You deserve to be cared for, Peggy," she whispered softly. "And I'd very much like to be the one to do that."

At that, Peggy looked up, meeting Angie's eyes with a hopeful expression. Taking it as a positive sign, Angie let go of one of Peggy's hands to carefully cup her cheek.

"May I?" she asked, almost timidly.

Peggy closed her eyes for a moment and nuzzled into Angie's touch, before opening them again with a soft smile.

"Please, do," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

And so, with Adele serenading them, and the glow of the city lights shining upon them through the open curtains to guide her way, Angie closed the distance between them, burying her fingers in the chocolate locks, and captured Peggy’s ruby lips with her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm emeraldsandivy on Tumblr, come say hi!
> 
> Also, the holidays are coming up, and my students have finals next week, so I'm going to be a bit busy in the coming days. If I don't update right away, never fear, I will return!
> 
> Thanks for all of the kind words, messages, and reviews I've gotten so far! You guys are the best!


	6. To Be Completely Honest, You're Not Like All the Rest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know, I've never written a sex scene in my entire life, so please be kind.
> 
> Chapter title come from the song The Night Will Go As Follows by The Spill Canvas.

Angie’s hair had come loose somehow. Peggy could tell, not because she could see it, but because she could smell Angie’s mint shampoo as she felt it ghost against her cheek. Gentle fingers cupped either side of her face and she could feel herself being steered slowly backwards until her calves hit the couch. They broke apart at the abrupt stop and just stared at each other a few moments.

“Why don’t we sit down for a few minutes,” Angie suggested.

Peggy nodded and sat on the edge of the cushions, slipping her shoes off and folding her hands in her lap. Angie sat next to her so that their knees were touching, raising her hand up as if she were going to touch Peggy’s cheek, before pausing and lowering it again.

“May I?” she asked, as before, waiting for Peggy’s explicit permission before continuing. 

Unable to untie her tongue, Peggy nodded again.

Angie’s eyes roamed over Peggy’s features, as if she couldn’t look at her enough. She lifted her hand back up and let her fingertips brush lightly over the contours of Peggy’s face and through her hair. They ghosted down her neck and arms, taking hold of one of her hands and tracing the lines of her palm, repeating the action with the other hand, pressing a kiss to the warm skin. Her gaze traveled down the length of Peggy’s body; to her gorgeous legs that went on for days, and Angie reached down to cup one of Peggy’s calves, massaging it lightly.

A light sniff broke the silence and Angie’s hand stilled as she looked back up at Peggy. She was watching Angie with a mixture of wonder and confusion in her soft brown eyes, where tears had begun to gather.

Angie released Peggy’s calf as if she had been burned, concern flooding through her.

“I’m so sorry, Peggy,” she said quickly. “Did I do something wrong? I didn’t mean to.”

Peggy just shook her head, blinking back the tears in her eyes and gave Angie a watery smile.

“No, not at all,” she reassured her. “It’s just…with Jack…I never—he never—“ She trailed off, overcome with emotion.

Angie reached forward slowly and took Peggy’s hand in both of hers. “He never what, honey?” she asked.

Peggy was quiet for a few moments, watching her hands play with the hem of her dress. “He never liked to look at me,” she whispered. “He would always—it was always—rough. Like he just wanted it to be over, so long as he got what he wanted, like I didn’t matter.”

A few tears had escaped from Peggy’s eyes, and she reached up quickly to brush them away, still looking down at her lap. Her shame impregnated the space between them and it pierced Angie’s heart to know just how much harm Jack had done. She wanted nothing more than to undo it, to take Peggy in her arms and help her see her value, help her see how much she was loved.

“Peggy—Margaret—Carter,” Angie whispered, kneeling down on the floor in front of her and cradling Peggy’s face in her hands. “You deserve to be looked at, to be revered and respected, for the extraordinary woman that you are. Every inch of you deserves to be explored and mapped out, to be given time and tenderness. And I will give you as much or as little as you want. I may be impulsive, but I am patient with the things that matter, and you, _cara mía_ , matter so very much.”

Peggy remained speechless; tears now spilling freely down her cheeks. Angie used the pads of her thumbs to gently wipe them away, waiting until Peggy was ready to speak. After several moments, taking a steadying breath, Peggy reached up and took Angie’s hands in her own, lacing their fingers together and looked into her kind, blue eyes.

“Show me,” she whispered. “Please?”

Angie didn’t say anything, but simply cocked her head slightly to the side, waiting for the permission she needed before they moved forward any farther. Sensing her want for confirmation, Peggy cleared her throat before speaking again with more confidence.

“Show me how much I matter,” she requested, giving Angie’s hands a squeeze. “Make me forget the lies I’ve learned from Jack.”

Angie smiled and reached up to brush Peggy’s cheek with the back of her hand, leaning in slowly, allowing Peggy to meet her halfway, for another soft kiss. Once they broke apart, Angie stood, bringing Peggy up with her, and looked the English woman in the eyes once again.

“You’re sure, English?” Angie asked seriously. She would not rush Peggy into something, if she wasn’t really ready for it.

Peggy smiled and nodded. “Completely,” she assured. “Now, shut up, Broadway, you talk to much.”

Laughing at Peggy’s sass, Angie pulled her in to press a kiss to her cheek. She then turned and guided her by the hand toward the bed, shutting off the light to the kitchen as they went. With the apartment now bathed in darkness, save for the lights of the city shining rather romantically through the curtains, Angie sat down on the edge of the bed, letting Peggy stand between her knees. She smoothed her hands over Peggy’s hips and looked once more into the hazel eyes looking down at her softly.

“If you want to stop, we’ll stop,” Angie promised. “All you have to do is tell me.”

Peggy reached forward and brushed her fingers through Angie’s hair. “I know,” she nodded. “I trust you.”

Squeezing her hips, Angie tilted her head up and let Peggy initiate the kiss. She kept it chaste, not wanting to rush her too quickly and giving her plenty of time to grow accustomed to Angie’s touch.

Unsure of where to rest her hands, Peggy slid them from Angie’s hair, down along the curve of her neck and brought them to rest awkwardly on her shoulders. Her fingers skittered nervously, faltering in their unease. Sensing her hesitation, Angie pulled back and rubbed small circles into Peggy’s hips with her thumbs.

“It’s okay, Peg,” she assured her. “Take as much time as you need.”

Taking the invitation with relief, Peggy wavered a moment longer before Angie felt her hands begin their journey. For a several minutes, she was content to explore, as Angie had, running her fingertips slowly across the other woman’s skin: up and down her arms, across her collarbone, over her brow, down the bridge of her nose, then back through the path again. She followed every movement with her eyes, lips slightly parted. It was as if she were a blind woman finally able to see for the first time.

Angie was patient, as she promised. She realized this must be the first time in quite a while that Peggy felt this comfortable and intimate with another person, and she would give her as much time as she needed to take the next step, even if that meant it did not happen tonight.

Lost in her thoughts, she had not realized that Peggy had stilled in her movements until she heard a gentle “Angie?” call out to her. Refocusing her eyes, she found Peggy looking down at her with a questioning, almost apprehensive, look, chastising herself for not giving better attention to the woman in front of her.

“Sorry, hun,” she whispered, giving her hips a reassuring squeeze. “You made me forget myself there for a second.”

Doubt turned to bashfulness in Peggy’s eyes, and a blush spread across her cheeks as she looked down with a shy smile.

“May I—“ she began, clearing her throat nervously and tracing her fingers over the material on Angie’s shoulders. “If it’s alright, I mean, could I…?”

She left the question hanging, but Angie caught onto her meaning. Gently using Peggy’s hips for leverage, she stood from the bed.

“Of course,” she consented, turning her back to Peggy and pulled her hair over her shoulder to give her better access to the zipper.

Peggy toyed with the metal pull for a few moments before slowly sliding it down, until it halted just above Angie’s lower back, exposing a generous sliver of skin. Impulsively, Peggy reached forward and traced a finger down Angie’s spine, causing her to shiver at the feather-light touch. Emboldened by the reaction, Peggy slid her hands beneath the fabric and pushed it gently from Angie’s shoulders, stepping closer so that they were only inches apart.

The dress slid down Angie’s body to pool at her feet, leaving her in just her bra and underwear. She made no move to turn around, trusting Peggy to guide their way through these uncharted waters. She’d gladly give up control, if it meant helping Peggy understand just how loved and wanted she was.

As Angie’s body was exposed, Peggy found herself delightfully overwhelmed. She drank in every dip and curve, her fingertips still splayed out over Angie’s shoulder blades. Allowing her emotions to guide her, Peggy fought against her doubt, refusing to let Jack and all of his conditioning ruin her desire for Angie. Pushing past the apprehension, she leaned forward and brushed her nose against the nape of Angie’s neck, nuzzling the soft skin and wisps of hair, before pressing a light kiss to the curve that met her shoulder.

A sigh escaped Angie’s lips, as she leaned back into Peggy’s body, the fabric of her dress feeling deliciously smooth and warm. They stood there for a moment, Angie’s eyes closed in contentment, when she felt Peggy draw back and tug lightly at her shoulder to turn her around. Peggy’s eyes traveled up and down her body once, before she leaned in for a brief kiss.

“I think I’m a little overdressed,” she whispered as she pulled back. “Could you help me with that?”

Angie was silent, at first, looking back at Peggy with a scrutinizing gaze. For all the willingness Peggy had shown, Angie still felt the need to ask, to be sure, that this was what Peggy wanted. Jack had already taken so much from her; so much that was not his to take. He’d left behind cracks and holes from the pieces that he’d broken from her, leaving her to try and make sense of the damage he had done. And now here she was, standing in front of Angie and offering her what remained of what Jack had not managed to destroy. This was not a gift Angie took lightly. She had to be sure.

“Angie,” Peggy whispered, taking the other woman’s hands. She could still sense the hesitation behind her blue eyes, and knew that it was time for a pep talk of her own, to soothe Angie’s apprehension.

“I trust you, Angie,” she began quietly, lacing their fingers together. “More than I think I’ve ever trusted another person. You are not Jack and I know that you won’t hurt me or use me. You treat me as if I am something to be treasured, giving every bit of yourself without a second thought. I’m not giving myself to you, because I feel obligated or I want to prove something. I’m giving myself to you, because I want to. You have given me back a life that I had forgotten and so much more, but you did manage take something from me in the process.”

Angie’s eyes, which had softened at Peggy’s words, suddenly widened in panic. She tried to pull back, but Peggy kept her grasp firm and leaned forward to graze Angie’s ear with her lips. 

" _Tu mi hai rubato il cuore_ ," she whispered softly.

As she pulled back, she saw the smile that lit up Angie’s features. Smiling brightly in return, Peggy felt the last wall between them crumble. Taking her by surprise, Angie let go of her hands and slid her arms around her waist, bringing them closer until their noses were almost touching.

“She is beautiful, and therefore to be wooed; she is a woman, therefore to be won,” Angie murmured softly, gazing into Peggy’s eyes.

At that, Peggy’s smile widened and a chuckle escaped from her lips. “Are you quoting Shakespeare to me, Miss Martinelli?” she teased.

“Two can play that game, can’t they, English?” Angie said with mischief in her eyes.

Peggy leaned in, resting their foreheads together. “They can, indeed,” she purred and captured Angie’s lips with her own.

They stood there for several minutes, their lips and tongues finding a rhythm together, before Peggy felt Angie’s arms snake up her back and her fingers take hold of the zipper of her dress.

“You still want help with this?” she breathed.

Peggy smiled and nudged Angie’s nose with her own. “Absolutely,” she replied.

Angie tugged gently and slid the zipper slowly down Peggy’s back, her other hand tracing down her spine in its wake. Angie snuck in a quick peck before drawing back and helping Peggy out of the sleeves, letting the dress fall to the floor with her own. 

She stared. She couldn’t help it. In front of her was the most beautiful woman Angie had ever seen and here she stood, open and vulnerable, just for her. Her eyes fell down to the bruising along Peggy’s abdomen, faded almost to a shade just slightly darker than her natural skin tone, but still visible to any second glance. She lightly traced her fingertips over the discoloration, hyper aware of Peggy’s intense gaze. Sitting back down on the edge of the bed, Angie grabbed the other woman gently by the hips and pulled her forward so that she could trail gentle kisses along Peggy’s stomach.

Closing her eyes with a sigh, Peggy reached up to run her fingers through Angie’s hair, enjoying the sensation of her lips against her skin. Bending slightly, she nuzzled the younger woman’s soft hair, pressing her lips to the top of her head. She tilted Angie’s head back, giving her a sweet smile, and leaned in for a slow, heated kiss. Taking care of the still-tender injuries, Angie wrapped her arms around Peggy and leaned back, pulling the other woman with her and rolling slightly, so that they were now laying on the bed with Angie hovering over Peggy and smiling down at her. They adjusted slightly, so that they could lie up against the pillows, Angie brushing stray locks of hair from Peggy’s face. 

Sliding her hands around Angie’s torso, Peggy pressed down lightly on her shoulder blades, bringing Angie, and her lips, back down to her level. Silence filled the apartment, broken only by the sounds of the city below and their shallow breathing as their mouths met in the semi-darkness. Angie felt Peggy’s hands drift until they found the clasp of her bra, causing her to draw back.

Looking back at her with heavy-lidded eyes and kiss-swollen lips, Peggy was the most beautiful Angie had ever seen her. She slipped her fingers beneath the fastening and watched Angie for any signs of resistance.

“May I?” she whispered, her breath ghosting over Angie’s lips. 

Unable to find her voice, Angie simply nodded, and felt the release of the fabric around her chest and let it slip down her arms and tossed it to the floor. Suddenly shy, Angie cast her gaze away from the woman beneath her, until she felt a hand on her cheek. She looked back down to see Peggy watching her intently, and then a her eyes slid shut and a sigh escaped from her lips as a soft, shaky hand wrapped itself around her breast.

Emboldened by Angie’s response, Peggy wrapped her arm around her waist and sat them upright so that Angie was straddling Peggy’s lap. Gently kneading the breast beneath her palm, Peggy brought her lips to Angie’s neck and began a leaving a trail up and along her jawline. Angie gripped Peggy’s shoulders and fiddled with the straps of her bra.

“Angie,” Peggy murmured between kisses. 

“Yeah, English?” 

“Just take the damn thing off already, please.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Angie smiled, pulling the straps down Peggy’s arms and reaching around to undo the clasp, dropping it to the floor to join her own. 

Now it was Peggy’s turn to be shy, as Angie watched her carefully for any signs of discomfort. She felt a blush creep up her neck and tapped her fingers nervously on Angie’s thighs. 

“Why Miss Carter,” Angie whispered, cupping her cheek. “Look at you.” She leaned in until their lips were only inches apart. “You’re beautiful.”

Peggy smiled as their lips met and Angie laid them back down, adjusting so that she could lean on elbow and have her other hand free to trace Peggy’s jaw and collarbone as they kissed. Wanting to move lower, Angie pulled back, the question in her eyes, while she ran her fingertips across her skin.

“Touch me,” Peggy whispered, almost begging. “Please.”

Dipping in for another kiss, Angie let her hand drift lower, exploring every inch of Peggy she could find. She followed the swell and curve of her breast, letting her fingers brush over the peaked nipple before taking a moment to gently roll it between her thumb and forefinger. Her lips left Peggy’s and moved along her jaw and down her neck, nipping lightly at her collarbone before soothing it with a swipe of her tongue, earning a gasp and a sigh. Angie had released her nipple and let her fingertips ghost down her toned stomach, leaving a trail of fire on Peggy’s skin, stopping only when they reached the waistband of her underwear.

Angie raised her head back up and nudged Peggy’s nose with her own, to encourage her to open her eyes, which had been shut at her ministrations. When the chocolate irises appeared, Angie gave Peggy’s hip a gentle squeeze.

“May I take these off?” she whispered softly, her thumb rubbing against the soft fabric.

Still slightly breathless from Angie’s touch, Peggy was silent for a few moments as she gathered herself. “Let me help,” she murmured, lifting her hips from the bed.

Angie sat up and gently slid the fabric down Peggy’s legs, letting it fall silently to the floor. She remained sitting up on her knees and just took in the beautiful sight before her. Peggy, completely bare and vulnerable, with an unsure look in her eyes, smiling shyly back up at her.

“ _Sei perfetta_ ,” she whispered, rubbing Peggy’s calf encouragingly.

“Flattery, and in Italian, will get you everywhere, darling,” Peggy teased, reaching for her.

Angie smiled, laid back down, and was pulled into another kiss. She let her hand graze down Peggy’s side, stopping at her hip.

“If anything I do makes you uncomfortable, or you start to feel overwhelmed, I’ll stop, okay?” she implored.

“Okay,” Peggy nodded. “I trust you.”

Keeping her eyes on Peggy’s, Angie moved her fingers down her hip, through her short curls, and to her soft folds, already slick with desire. She watched Peggy as she tested different pressures and speeds, learning just what would make her gasp, moan, and shudder. When she found a particularly sensitive spot, Peggy arched off of the bed and made an adorable mewling sound that Angie teased out of her a few more times with a smile. After several minutes of finding Peggy’s weaknesses and watching her reactions, Angie paused and brought a single finger to her opening.

“I’m going to press inside, okay?” Angie said. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

Unable to form proper words, Peggy just nodded, keeping her eyes closed.

Slowly, Angie pushed her finger into Peggy, causing her to moan softly. Encouraged by the reaction, she leaned her head down and captured one of Peggy’s nipples between her lips, swirling it softly with her tongue. Caught unawares, Peggy’s mouth fell open and her hands buried themselves in Angie’s hair, keeping her in place. Continuing to move in and out of her slowly, Angie moved over to give equal attention to her other nipple, taking it into her mouth and eliciting another whimper from Peggy.

Drawing back, Angie paused her hand a moment and looked down at Peggy, whose eyes were now a fair shade darker than their natural color. 

“Another?” Angie asked.

Peggy nodded again, still not trusting her voice.

Angie kissed her softly and carefully added a second finger, moving slowly to give her time to get used to the feeling. When Peggy’s hips began to move in rhythm with her motions, Angie increased the speed slightly, moving her lips to kiss down Peggy’s neck and follow a path down her torso, between her breasts, over her stomach, and paused over the little bundle of nerves just above her fingers, blowing on it gently.

Peggy gasped and moved her hands to grasp the sheets beneath her. Encouraged, Angie laid the barest of kisses against the sensitive skin, feeling Peggy shudder and gasp again. Hesitating slightly, Angie looked up when she felt Peggy’s hand grasp hers that had been splayed out across her stomach. They’re eyes connected and Peggy gave a slight nod and a smile, giving permission.

Angie smiled and ducked her head back down, but kept a firm hold on Peggy’s hand, giving it a soft squeeze. She took a deep breath and took Peggy’s clit between her lips and sucked gently. A long moan passed from Peggy’s lips and she arched from the bed again, writhing in the pleasure Angie was pulling from her body. It had been so long, but Peggy found herself remembering the feeling of being loved, body and soul, by another person. This was not like Jack, not even close, and it was far better than she could have imagined.

Peggy could feel her release coming. It was sitting hot in the pit of her stomach and a fluttering had begun to pulse in her walls around Angie’s fingers. She matched Angie’s rhythm with her hips and felt Angie’s tongue press more firmly against her clit, her moans and pants filling the apartment. Tears sprang to Peggy’s eyes and she gripped Angie’s hand tighter as her climax rushed towards her. Then, all at once, lights popped behind her eyelids and her walls closed around Angie’s fingers as pure ecstasy traveled through her body in waves. Her back bowed and she tossed her head back in a silent scream as the tears escaped down her cheeks.

Slowly, Angie guided Peggy down from her high, drawing back and sliding her fingers in and out of her slowly until they stilled altogether. She let go of her hand and kissed her way back up Peggy’s body, pressing her lips against the tear tracks on her face. She smoothed her hair back and cupped Peggy’s jaw, watching has her eyes opened slowly.

“Did I hurt you?” Angie whispered, brushing her thumb over the dampness on Peggy’s cheek with concern in her eyes.

Peggy shook her head with a smile and reached up to run her fingers through Angie’s hair.

“Absolutely not,” she assured. “The happiest of happy tears, I promise.” She pulled Angie down with a light tug and pressed a kiss to her lips. “Thank you, darling.”

Angie leaned back and cocked her head to the side. “What for, English?”

“For proving Jack wrong,” Peggy said. “For taking me as I am and giving me my worth back.”

Angie smiled and traced Peggy’s cheekbone with her index finger. “Who you are is perfect,” she whispered. “And I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Peggy reached up and grabbed Angie’s hand, pressing a lingering kiss to her palm, before looking back up at her with soft eyes. “Angie, you’d better get back down here and kiss me,” she warned. “Or I’m afraid I’ll feel quite affronted after a sentiment like that.”

Angie chuckled at Peggy’s British propriety and leaned back down to capture her lips once again. They kissed lazily, letting their hands wander and explore, memorizing each other’s bodies. Suddenly, Peggy caressed her way up Angie’s inner thigh, causing the younger woman to gasp out in surprise and break their kiss, looking down at Peggy with dark eyes.

“Is this okay?” Peggy asked quietly.

“English,” Angie breathed. “It’s more than okay, it’s encouraged.”

A laugh bubbled up from Peggy’s chest, and she pressed her lips to Angie’s again as she moved her hand higher, higher, higher…

She dragged a finger up the length of Angie’s sex through the cotton of her underwear, earning a moan in response. Breaking their kiss, Angie quickly lifted her hips and rid herself of the fabric and tossed it somewhere over her shoulder, returning to her previous position.

“Eager, are we?” Peggy teased.

“Shut up, English, and please do that again.”

Happy to oblige, Peggy pulled Angie back down to her lips and slipped her finger back through Angie’s slick folds, this time unimpeded. She did this a few times, finding out just what got a reaction from Angie, before settling two fingers on her clit and rubbing lightly in a circle.

Angie pulled away, tossing her head back and moaning. She began to move her hips, grinding against Peggy’s movements. Peggy increased the speed and pressure of her fingers, causing Angie to gasp and shudder, as she moved her hips at a faster pace to keep up. Her head fell forward and she met Peggy’s eyes.

With her mouth open in a silent moan, hair mussed, and eyes heavy with desire, Peggy had never seen her look so beautiful. She pulled Angie down into a heated kiss and pressed harder on her clit. With a cry, Angie’s head fell back and her hips bucked wildly, body trembling with the force of her climax. With a few more light swipes of her fingers, Peggy stilled her movements, pulling Angie down on top of her and holding her close as she slowly came back to her senses.

“Wow,” she breathed.

Peggy giggled. “Wow, indeed,” she agreed.

Angie propped herself up on an elbow and gazed at Peggy. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “For trusting me.”

Peggy ran a hand through Angie’s hair. “Thank _you_ , darling,” she replied. “For helping me find myself again.”

Angie smiled and leaned down for a short, sweet kiss before settling back down and pulling the covers up and around them. She opened her arms and Peggy moved into them, resting her head on Angie’s shoulder. In their post-sex bliss, they laid in the quiet, listening to the sounds of the city below, and wondering where to go from here, but that was a question for tomorrow. Tonight they would just enjoy each other, lulled into complacency by the silence and warmth of their embrace.

“Hey, English?” Angie murmured sometime later.

“Hmm?” Peggy responded sleepily.

“When did you learn Italian?”

Angie’s question was met with a laugh so infectious that she couldn’t help but join in. Once their giggles had subsided, Peggy nestled further into Angie’s side, pulling the covers around them tighter, and draped an arm over her stomach.

“I started the day I met you,” she whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _cara mía_ = my dear/darling  
>  _Tu mi hai rubato il cuore_ = You stole my heart  
>  _Sei perfetta_ = you're perfect
> 
>  
> 
> I'm emeraldsandivy on Tumblr. Come say hi!


	7. Here I Am, and I Stand So Tall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING for domestic abuse.
> 
> Chapter title come from the song Gravity by Sara Bareilles.

Angie woke up in the late morning with the sun in her eyes and a slim arm wrapped securely around her waist. She smiled and turned carefully, not wanting to wake Peggy, and propped her head up with one elbow. She watched as Peggy slept on, breathing deeply with slightly parted lips, her hair fanned out and falling over her cheek. The sunlight filtered softly through the curtains behind her, outlining her in an almost ethereal glow. She looked at peace and Angie was content to just watch her sleep, hardly believing her good fortune.  
  
“I can feel you staring, you know,” Peggy mumbled suddenly, startling Angie.  
  
Angie hummed in reply and reached forward to brush the hair from Peggy’s face. “I’m not staring,” she replied. “I’m just admiring the view.”  
  
Peggy’s eyes opened and a light blush dusted her cheeks. “Flirt,” she smirked.  
  
“Only with you, hun,” Angie said, leaning forward to press a kiss to Peggy’s forehead before sitting up and stretching. The sheets fell to her waist, leaving her torso naked in the bright sunshine.  
  
She turned her head to see Peggy watching her intently, eyes traveling up and down her body slowly.  
  
“Now who’s staring?” Angie teased, standing to pull a light blue robe from the closet and shrug it on. She turned back to Peggy, who had sat up, rather unfortunately covered by the bed sheet, and was still watching her, now with one eyebrow arched.  
  
“Do I get one of those, or am I expected to wrap myself up in this sheet?” she joked.  
  
Angie laughed and walked around the bed to her dresser, where the three white boxes from the night before were stacked. “I’m so glad you asked,” she said, grabbing the top box from the pile and set it down in front of Peggy, who merely looked between it and Angie.  
  
“Well, open it,” Angie encouraged, waving her hands.  
  
Tucking the sheet securely around her torso, Peggy reached forward and lifted the lid from the box and set it aside. Her mouth dropped open in surprise as she held up the satin robe from the box, it’s deep black color accented with a cherry red collar and belt.  
  
“Angie,” Peggy breathed. “It’s beautiful.”  
  
“Just like the gal it belongs to.”  
  
“But what made you think to get it for me?”  
  
Angie blushed and tucked a curl behind her ear. “I saw it when I was out getting the dresses and I just couldn’t not get it,” she explained. “I knew it would look perfect on you.”  
  
Peggy smiled, looking at Angie as though she were the sun and stars. She stood from the bed, finally allowing the sheet to fall away, much to Angie’s approval, and slipped the robe around her shoulders, tying it shut in a lose bow. She then walked over to Angie and pulled her into a tight hug.  
  
“You have no idea how grateful I am that I found myself in your diner that evening,” she whispered, pulling back to graze Angie’s lips with her own.  
  
Angie leaned their foreheads together when they broke apart. “Me too, English.”  
  
They stood silently for a few moments, warm in the sunshine and each other’s embrace. The moment was broken when Peggy’s stomach growled loudly. Angie giggled and pulled away.  
  
“I think someone worked up an appetite last night,” she said, causing Peggy to blush again. “Come on, let’s get some breakfast.”  
  
Angie took her by the hand and led her out into the kitchen, pulling bowls and ingredients for pancakes from the cupboards. She handed the butter and a bowl to Peggy, instructing her to melt it in the microwave, while she combined the rest of the ingredients, adding the butter when Peggy handed it to her, and whisked it all together with efficiency.  
  
Not being much of a cook, Peggy was always fascinated with Angie’s skill in the kitchen, creating the most succulent dishes she’d ever tasted and often without a recipe. She managed to turn cooking into an art form, practically dancing around the kitchen with all the grace of a ballerina, turning and twirling in precise fashion.  
  
When the batter was mixed, Angie poured it into what looked like a clear plastic ketchup bottle, asking Peggy to pull out a skillet and turn on the stove while she did. Grabbing a spatula, Angie shook the mixture then upended the bottle over the skillet and squeezed out a blob of the batter, letting it form into a perfect circle before picking up the pan and giving it a flick, turning the pancake over in a perfect arc.  
  
“How in the world do you do that?” Peggy asked, enthralled by the process.  
  
“Lots of practice and lots of ruined pancakes,” she replied with a wink.  
  
Peggy chuckled and stepped up behind Angie, placing her hands on either side to lean on the oven handle, and rested her chin on Angie’s shoulder. Angie smiled and leaned back, turning her head to press a light kiss to Peggy’s cheek before returning to their pancakes. It was so peaceful, so utterly domestic, and Peggy thought that she would never be able to get enough of it.  
  
“Would you like tea or coffee this morning?” Peggy asked absentmindedly.  
  
Angie thought for a moment, flipping another pancake in the same fluid motion.  
  
“Coffee, I think,” she replied. “If that’s alright with you.”  
  
“Of course, love,” Peggy said, pressing a kiss to her shoulder and walking over to the coffee maker.  
  
Once they had a considerable stack of pancakes and the coffee was brewed, Peggy poured them both a mug and Angie set the table with butter and syrup in the center. They ate in silence for a bit, both more hungry than they realized, and just enjoyed the quiet. Their eyes would meet every now and then, causing both of them to smile shyly and look away. Halfway through a drink of coffee, Peggy felt Angie’s foot graze her calf and begin to brush lightly against her skin. Peggy smiled, but did not say anything, allowing Angie to continue the motion.  
  
Halfway through their third helping of pancakes, Peggy put her fork down and sat back in her chair, brooding silently for a few moments before speaking.  
  
“I’ve been thinking,” she began carefully. “That I’m finally ready to tell someone. About Jack.”  
  
Angie’s fork slipped from her fingers and hit the plate with a clatter. “What do you mean, Peg?” she asked, staring back at her with wide eyes.  
  
Peggy took a deep breath and steadied her shaking hands. “I mean that if I’m to start over—if _we’re_ to start over—then I can’t have the shadow of Jack hanging over us anymore.”  
  
“Okay,” Angie nodded, toying with her napkin. “What would you like to do?”  
  
Weighing her options carefully, Peggy thought to herself for a minute, deciding the order in which she would like to take her actions.  
  
“First,” she said. “I need to make a phone call to my boss and tell him what’s really been going on.”  
  
Angie nodded, remaining silent.  
  
“Then,” Peggy continued. “I think I should go to the police and make a statement and file a restraining order.”  
  
“You sure, English?” Angie asked, reaching over to grab her hand.  
  
“Yes,” she nodded. “Jack can’t get away with what he’s done, and I don’t want him coming after us.  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“Finally,” Peggy said, bracing herself for the outcome. “I need to go back and get my things from Jack’s apartment.”  
  
Angie choked halfway through a sip of her coffee. Coughing violently, she managed to take a few deep breaths, thumping the palm of her hand against her chest, as she felt her throat start to relax again.  
  
“Absolutely not,” she croaked, taking another, more careful, sip of coffee to soothe the rawness in her voice.  
  
“Angie--,” Peggy began, trying to head off the argument.  
  
“No, Peggy,” Angie said firmly. “The last time you were in that apartment, you showed back up like you’d just been in a warzone. I’m not letting you put yourself in danger like that again.”  
  
“But I wouldn’t be in danger,” Peggy insisted. “Jack will be at work, I can grab what I need and be out before he ever knows I was there.”  
  
“You can’t know that,” Angie argued.  
  
Peggy squeezed Angie’s hand that was still in hers. “I know his schedule,” she explained. “He’s on patrol today and won’t be anywhere near the apartment.”  
  
Angie saw the earnest look in Peggy’s eyes, not understanding her desire to return to that place again, and shook her head.  
  
“You can’t go by yourself, Peg,” she pleaded.  
  
Peggy thought for a moment, still grasping Angie’s hand in her own.  
  
“Why don’t you walk me there,” she suggested, earning a confused look from Angie. “We’ll go to the police first and then we can walk toward the diner for your shift. The apartment is only a few blocks away. I’ll run over, grab my stuff, and be out in less than fifteen minutes. I’ll come right back to the diner when I’ve finished.”  
  
Angie mulled the idea in her head. She knew that trying to convince Peggy not to go would be futile, and this was at least a plan she could live with. She could make it fifteen minutes, right? Sighing in defeat, she nodded her head.

“Alright,” Peggy said. “Let’s clear up and get dressed. Then I’ll call my boss and we can head out, okay?”  
  
Angie just nodded again and stood from the table, grabbing their plates. They stuck the leftovers in the fridge and returned to the bedroom to change. While Angie was curling her hair in the mirror, Peggy picked up her phone and began to walk to the bathroom. She stopped when Angie placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled at the gentle kiss she pressed to her cheek. She then shut herself in the bathroom, braced for a difficult conversation.  
  
Angie paced and fretted all the while that Peggy was on the phone with her boss. She couldn’t stand the idea of her entering that apartment again, not after what that monster had done to her. She tried to think of any other option, but her brain wouldn’t cooperate. All she could see was Peggy the morning she had come into the diner for help. Tears sprang to her eyes and she blinked them back angrily, as Peggy reemerged from the bathroom.  
  
“How’d it go?” Angie asked in a shaky voice.  
  
“Well, he was shocked, to say the least,” Peggy sighed. “He said that he wanted me to take a few weeks off, until the restraining order is approved and that I just need to ask if there’s anything I need.”  
  
Angie nodded, not really sure of what to say.  
  
“He also said,” Peggy continued. “That he wanted me to thank you for him. That he’s very grateful for all you’ve done for me.”  
  
At that, Angie managed to smile. Peggy stepped forward, until she was directly in front of her.  
  
“Of course, I’m very grateful, too, you know,” she murmured, rubbing her hands up and down Angie’s arms.  
  
Angie smiled again and rested her hands on Peggy’s hips. “Me too, English,” she replied. She tucked a stray lock of hair behind Peggy’s ear and leaned in to bring their lips together.  
  
“Ready?” Angie asked, squeezing her hips when they pulled away.  
  
“As I’ll ever be,” Peggy sighed, letting go to fetch her purse and overnight bag.  
  
They gathered their things and left the apartment, walking toward the nearest precinct, after Angie had first made sure that it was not Jack’s district, so that Peggy could file a report and the restraining order. Although Peggy had been ashamed, Angie was very glad that she had taken pictures of her injuries a few days after she had started staying with her. The evidence would only be more damning of Jack in Peggy’s favor.  
  
They walked in comfortable silence for a while. Angie knew that Peggy was anxious, and she didn’t want to make it any worse by trying to force conversation. Peggy was just trying to gain comfort from Angie’s presence beside her. When they stopped at a crosswalk, Angie brushed the back of Peggy’s hand with her own, and Peggy reached over and laced her fingers with Angie’s, holding on tightly.  
  
“Nervous?” Angie asked when they had resumed walking.  
  
“Maybe a little,” Peggy muttered. “Does it show?”  
  
“You want the truth or kindness, English?” Angie smiled.  
  
Peggy laughed and squeezed her hand. “Luckily, you give me both.”  
  
When they arrived at the station, they were escorted into a private meeting room, where Peggy gave an account of Jack’s abuse, particularly the night of the attack. Angie handed over her cell phone with pictures of the injuries Peggy had sustained. The two officers in the room with them stared in disbelief.  
  
“We’re talking about Jack Thompson, right?” the larger one asked. “13th precinct?”  
  
Peggy nodded silently.  
  
“So you’re the writer, right?” he continued. “From the Times? The one that lives with him?”  
  
“Lived,” Angie bristled, emphasizing the past tense.  
  
The other officer let out a low whistle, swiping through the pictures with disgust. “I’d heard the guy was an arrogant son of a bitch, but I never thought anything like this.”  
  
Peggy smiled despite herself. It was somehow comforting to hear that Jack was not the golden boy officer that he often tried to project.  
  
“All right, ma’am,” the first officer said, handing Angie back her phone after emailing them to his police account. “We’ve got your statement and we will definitely be looking into it as soon as we can. I understand you’d also like to file a restraining order.”  
  
“Yes, please,” Peggy responded, sounding smaller than she would have liked.  
  
“Normally a restraining order takes at least 14 days to be approved by a court,” he explained, noting the fear in Peggy’s eyes. “However, judging by the seriousness of the abuse and the evidence we have of it, we can issue an emergency protective order while we wait for the long term order to process.”  
  
Relief flooded through Peggy at his words. She would still have to go in and talk to a judge in a few weeks, but it eased her mind to know that she would be protected in the meantime. Underneath the table, Angie gave her knee a small squeeze.  
  
After the officers took down her information and ran the protective order through their system, they handed Peggy a copy and told her that her formal hearing with a judge would be in twelve days at the city courthouse.  
  
“However, if you need help in that time, or you feel threatened by the accused, call us immediately,” the first officer implored.  
  
Peggy nodded and rose to her feet to shake each officer’s hand. “Thank you both, truly.”  
  
“Take care of yourself ma’am.”  
  
They left the station, Peggy feeling much lighter than before. They walked hand in hand toward the diner, stopping just a few doors down at the edge of an alley to say their goodbyes. Angie felt sick to her stomach knowing what their parting meant. Peggy could see the fear in her eyes and pulled her into a tight embrace.  
  
“I’ll be okay,” she tried to reassure her. “In and out before you know it.”  
  
They held on a little longer before finally pulling apart, the worry still evident on Angie’s face. Peggy leaned forward, kissing her forehead and then leaving another on her lips. She gave Angie’s hands a final squeeze.  
  
“I’ll be back soon,” she said, hesitating for a second, as if she wanted to say something, before settling for a small smile and a nod. She began to turn in the other direction, when slender fingers grazed her forearm.  
  
“Hey,” Angie beckoned Peggy back toward her and cradled her face in her hands. “You call me the the _minute_ you get done, okay?”  
  
Peggy nodded, grasping her elbows. “I promise,” she replied.  
  
Angie leaned in and pressed her lips to Peggy’s almost desperately. When they pulled away, she tangled her fingers in the dark chestnut hair and gave Peggy a look of quiet determination. Seeing how much it hurt Angie to let her go, Peggy pulled her into long hug, gripping to her as if she were a life preserver.  
  
When they let go, she gave Angie a reassuring nod. “The minute I’m done,” she repeated. And then she was gone, making her way in the opposite direct and leaving Angie with a gnawing dread in the pit of her stomach.  
  
She looked up to the clear blue sky. “ _Madre abbi pietà_ ,” she appealed, not really sure if anyone was listening, but saying it anyway.  
  
She looked back toward Peggy’s retreating figure, just barely visible at the end of the block.  
  
“I love you,” she whispered, and then turned around, heading toward the diner with the weight of the world resting on her shoulders.

 

* * *

  
  
Peggy slipped her key into the apartment door and turned the lock as quietly as she could. The door opened noiselessly and she stepped back into the last place she ever wanted to be. She took a moment to just look and listen. There was no sound coming from any of the rooms. She was alone.  
  
The place was filthy. Dirty dishes piled up in the sink, clothes where everywhere and a significant number of scotch bottles littered the counter and the floor in front of the couch. Gagging at the stench of alcohol that pervaded throughout the entire apartment, Peggy walked quickly in the direction of the bedroom, wanting to be out of the hellhole as fast as she possibly could. She made it halfway through the living room.  
  
“Well well,” a cold voice said behind her. Peggy froze, the color draining from her face. Fear flashed through her and a phantom pain lanced through her torso.  
  
She turned slowly and saw Jack in the bathroom doorway. He was still dressed in his uniform, but he looked more unkempt than usual. His normally slicked back hair was loose and hanging over his forehead, he clearly hadn’t shaved in days, and the dark bags beneath his eyes told her he hadn’t been sleeping well.  
  
“Look who finally came crawling back,” he continued, his words clearly slurring together.  
  
Peggy’s heart was beating wildly in her chest, the usual feeling of ice in her veins spreading quickly. However, it was accompanied by a gentle defiance, somewhere beneath the layers of her fear that kept her from running for the door. Not entirely sure where it had come from, she clung to it desperately, lest it slip away from her entirely.  
  
“What are you doing here?” she asked accusingly. Jack took a few steps toward her, swaying slightly.  
  
“You see, that’s the funny thing,” he said. “I’m out on patrol, when I suddenly get a phone call from the chief. Said he’d just heard from the 11th precinct.”  
  
Peggy’s stomach clenched. She knew that the police would have to inform Jack about the protective order, but she didn’t realize it would be so soon.  
  
“Turns out,” Jack continued. “I’ve got a restraining order pending against me, with a emergency protective order going into immediate effect, filed by none other than Peggy Carter.”  
  
Peggy noted the building rage in Jack’s eyes and weighed her options, feeling the fear creeping through her, just beneath her skin. She was close enough to the door that she could make a run for it. She knew she was fast, and Jack appeared in no state to follow her. She could also scream, knowing there were other people in the building, or she could stay and stand her ground. She desperately wanted to choose option one, but there was a tiny voice in her head telling her to stay, that she needed to see this through. If she didn’t, Jack would never give up pursuit.  
  
“So, I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but here’s what’s going to happen,” Jack growled. “You’re going to drop the charges and drag your worthless ass back here, where you belong. Got it?”  
  
He stared at her with a look of condescension in his eyes, expecting her to duck her head and meekly agree, as she had done throughout their entire relationship. Swallowing her fear, Peggy stared back at him boldly. She clenched her fists to keep them from shaking and squared her shoulders, standing straight and tall against his withering gaze. Taking a deep breath, she steeled all of her resolve and replied with a single word, her voice clear and strong.  
  
“No.”  
  
Silence resonated through the apartment at her reply, tension seeping through every crack and corner until it permeated the very space between them. Jack stared back at her with a mixture of disbelief and rage contorting his features. His breathing became labored and he took another step forward with a heavy _thunk_ of his boot. Peggy stayed still, fighting every instinct that was urging her to run. This ended today, whether her fear liked it or not.  
  
“No?” Jack repeated, his eyes narrowing, hands balling into meaty fists.  
  
Peggy took a deep breath, collecting her thoughts and looking Jack in the eyes when she spoke.  
  
“We’re done, Jack,” she said, confidence building with every word, though her voice still shook. “I’ve put up with your abuse for too long. I only stayed because I was too scared to stand up for myself, and I thought no one else would care about me. Well, it turns out I was wrong. I found someone who has been able to unravel all of the lies you’ve spun in my head. You tore me down, but she managed to build me back up.”  
  
At the word “she”, Peggy noticed Jack’s eyes widen and his nostrils flare in disbelief.  
  
“I’m leaving,” she continued. “You know I’ve already filed a restraining order, so don’t bother coming after me. This, whatever I thought it was, is over. Goodbye Jack.”  
  
Peggy quickly turned to leave, not bothering to collect any of her belongings, but heard quick footfalls and was suddenly yanked backwards by her hair, her neck snapping back with painful force. She smelled Jack before she could see him, the scotch on his breath stinging her nostrils as his face came into view from her peripheral vision.  
  
“You think I’m just gonna let you walk out of here?” he hissed, his fist gripping her hair tighter. “After everything I’ve done for you?”  
  
Gritting her teeth against the pain in her scalp, Peggy felt the fear reaching toward a fever pitch, but tempered it back down, having no idea where this newfound courage was coming from.  
  
“You’ve never done a damn thing for me,” she said. “You only care about yourself.”  
  
Growling, Jack shoved her forward into the door. Her nose collided painfully with the hard wood and blood began to pour from both nostrils. Peggy reached up to try and stem the flow as best she could.  
  
“You ungrateful bitch,” he snarled, stepping up to her so that they were only a foot apart. “I’ve given you everything and you think you can just leave me for whatever dyke slut comes along first.”  
  
In a swift movement that surprised even her, Peggy swung forward without thinking and slapped Jack full across the face, leaving a streak of blood across his cheek, the resounding _smack_ cracking through the apartment. He stumbled backward a few steps, his hand massaging where Peggy had struck him and his eyes filled with a combination of shock and fury.  
  
“How dare you?” she said in a low voice, sounding much more confident than she felt. The adrenaline coursing through her from her strike kept her standing tall against Jack’s building rage.  
  
Unfortunately that adrenaline could not account for the extra hundred pounds that Jack had on her. Sent into a craze by Peggy’s actions, Jack rushed towards her and pinned her against the wall, his forearm fixed against her neck, restricting her oxygen.  
  
“You’re nothing without me,” he yelled, only inches away. “You never will be.”  
  
Peggy felt her body freeze beneath Jack’s grip, his hold on her triggering images and memories of their time together, flashing rapidly through her thoughts. She felt helpless and foolish for thinking she would be able to leave this nightmare unscathed. What Jack wanted, Jack got, and there was no way of stopping him. Tears fell from her eyes and her body sagged in defeat.  
  
“That’s what I thought,” Jack boasted. “Nothing beneath those big words. They’re worthless, just like you.”  
  
He sneered triumphantly and spit in her face, adding further injury and humiliation to his words. However, as the saliva struck just above her eye and slid down to her lips, Peggy felt something awaken within her, bringing with it a ferocity that she did not know existed. Snapping from her trance, and using as much of her body as she could manage, she swung her leg forward and caught Jack square between the legs. With a howl of pain, he released her and fell to his hands and knees.  
  
Dabbing at her still bleeding nose, Peggy took a number of deep breaths, astonished at what she had just done, and finally looked down at Jack with cold indifference. She moved to collect her purse and bag that had been tossed to the floor and turned back toward the man who had caused her so much pain and who never would again.  
  
“Goodbye, Jack,” she said with finality. “I hope we never meet again.”  
  
And she turned to leave, but in a feat of determination, Jack lunged forward from his place on the floor and managed to wrap his fingers around Peggy’s ankle. She tried to twist from his grip, but with a hard jerk, Jack dropped her to the floor, her head slamming so hard against the ground that her vision blacked out for a few moments. When her sight refocused, she saw the all too familiar image of Jack’s leg rearing back, before she felt his foot sink into her stomach with more force than she remembered.  
  
She barely had time to cry out in pain before another blow landed in the same spot. He landed a few more kicks before taking aim at her chest, stomping down so violently that she both heard and felt her left collarbone snap in half. Tears blurred her vision as she saw Jack step over her so that she was between his legs. He knelt to the ground and cracked the back of his hand across her face, gripping her broken collar with the other and squeezing so that she screamed before backhanding her again.  
  
Jack let go only for a moment and then reached down with both hands and encircled them around her throat, squeezing so that she had to gasp for air.  
  
“I told you nobody would care if you were dead,” he sneered. “Guess we’ll just have to find out.”  
  
His hands gripped her throat harder, fully cutting off her air and crushing her windpipe. She clawed at his fingers, trying desperately to free herself as her strength quickly began to wane with the lack of oxygen in her lungs. Her vision had begun to blur and fade in her periphery and tears were spilling from her eyes in earnest. The only thing she could hear was the pounding of her own blood.  
  
With her energy and consciousness quickly fading, Peggy’s mind flooded with thoughts and memories of Angie; how she had finally found an extraordinary love, only to have it ripped away. _I love you,_ she thought weakly, finally succumbing to Jack’s strength.  
  
As a sea of black quickly swallowed the world around her, a sound pierced through the rushing in her ears, like a muffled explosion. She felt the release of Jack’s weight above her, before she, too, was engulfed by the darkness.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Madre abbi pietà_ = Mother have mercy
> 
> I have to say that I'm crazy proud of this whole story, but, as a writer, these last two chapters have been so deeply satisfying. Only two left!
> 
> I'm emeraldsandivy on Tumblr, come say hi!


	8. She Is Messy, But She's Kind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to my beta, who helped me out immensely with this chapter and has been a huge help throughout the whole story to keep it as realistic as possible.
> 
> Chapter title comes from the song She Used To Be Mine by Sara Bareilles.

Angela Rosabella Martinelli was never much of a runner. She was always clumsy and awkward, stumbling along like a newborn fawn using its legs for the first time. Besides, she grew up with four brothers. She knew how to throw a punch from an early age, so running was never really necessary when you had a pretty effective right hook.

However, at this moment, Angie was running like she’d been doing it all her life. She sprinted down the fluorescently lit hallways; the white walls and shapes of doctors and nurses mere blurs in her periphery, the heels of her Mary Janes clicking against the tiled floor, and a stitch beginning to tear in her side. Finally, she reached the nurses’ station, skidding to a halt in front of a rather shocked older woman.

“Ex-Excuse me,” she huffed. “I’m looking…for a patient.”

“Um, name?” the nurse asked, still a bit stunned.

“Margaret Carter. I’m Angie Martinelli, her roommate.”

The nurse tapped at the keyboard for a few seconds before a grim expression took over her features. “Miss Martinelli, if could you have a seat for a moment,” the nurse instructed. “I’ll go get Miss Carter’s doctor. I think he’d like to talk to you first.”

She walked away, leaving Angie standing at the counter, bent over and clutching her side. When she had regained her breath, she shifted from one foot to the other anxiously, dreading all of the possible reasons that the doctor may need to talk with her before allowing her into Peggy’s room.

She waited for several minutes before she heard footsteps behind her. She whirled around, eyes falling on a tall, thin man with brown hair, kind eyes, and a reserved smile. He wore a clean, white lab coat over simple slacks, a white shirt, and a gray vest with a stethoscope hanging from his neck and a file under his arm. As he approached Angie, he stuck out his hand to shake.

“You must be Miss Martinelli,” he greeting, gripping Angie’s hand firmly. “I’m Dr. Jarvis. I understand you’re here for Margaret Carter?”

“Peggy,” Angie corrected him, nodding. “And yes, I am. Is she going to be okay?”

Dr. Jarvis looked at her with an unreadable expression. “Why don’t we sit down and talk?” he suggested, pointing Angie toward one of the private meeting rooms behind the nurses’ station.

They settled across from each other into a pair of fairly squashy hospital chairs, Angie doing her best to keep as calm as possible. Dr. Jarvis flipped through the file he had been holding and made a few notes before looking back up at Angie.

“Miss Martinelli,” he began.

“Angie, please,” Angie interrupted.

Dr. Jarvis smiled kindly. “Angie,” he obliged. “There’s no way to sugarcoat this: your roommate’s injuries are quite extensive. She has a broken collarbone, three broken ribs, a broken nose, a fractured cheekbone, a concussion, and a severely bruised windpipe. She also has some internal bleeding, but we are confident that will clear up on its own. Due to the bruising of her esophagus, her vocal chords also suffered some temporary damage. She most likely won’t be able to speak for a few days, at least.”

Angie sat in shock, not saying a word, the color draining from her face with every new injury the doctor listed. Taking a few deep breaths to calm herself, she finally managed to get out the question she’d originally asked when she’d arrived.

“Is she going to be okay?”

Dr. Jarvis flipped his file closed and folded his hands in his lap. “As of right now, we don’t detect any neurological damage from the concussion or lack of oxygen she suffered. Her vitals seem good and she’s resting well.”

Angie just stared back at him, not quite knowing what that meant or how to respond. Sensing her lingering distress, Dr. Jarvis leaned forward and rested his hand on Angie’s forearm.

“That means, from what we can tell, yes,” he clarified, smiling softly. “It’s going to be a long road to recovery, mentally and physically, but she should be just fine.

Angie breathed then, tears springing to her eyes and quickly falling down her cheeks. Dr. Jarivs slid a box of tissues her way, which she took gratefully. Dabbing at her eyes, she cleared her throat and looked back up at the doctor.

“May I see her?” she asked, almost desperately.

Dr. Jarvis smiled and rose from the table. “Of course,” he said. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you right to her.”

Angie followed him down white washed hallways, hardly paying attention to just where they were going. She tried to steel herself for what she may see when she reached Peggy’s room, but she knew that this wasn’t something you could really prepare for. Finally they stopped outside a door in the intensive care unit.

“She’s still asleep, but she’s comfortable,” Dr. Jarvis explained. “We have her on some fairly heavy medication, but she should be lucid when she wakes. If you have any questions, feel free to ask for me, okay?”

Angie nodded. “Thank you for taking care of her,” she whispered, her throat tight.

Dr. Jarvis reached out and gave her arm a light squeeze, before turning and heading back down the hallway.

Angie entered the room quietly, but Peggy wasn’t the first thing that caught her eye. It was the man sitting in the chair next to her bed with puppy dog eyes and a cane resting across his legs. When Angie entered the room he looked up and she noticed that one of his eyes and cheeks were beginning to bruise. He stood slowly, extending his hand for her to shake. He seemed distracted, like he had somehow ended up here by mistake and didn’t know how.

“Uh, hi,” he said, shaking her hand loosely.

“Hello,” Angie replied hesitantly. “Not to sound impolite, but who are you?”

The man cleared his throat and sat back down. As he did so, his pant leg rode up slightly and Angie could see that he had a prosthetic leg.

“My name is Daniel,” he explained. “I live down the hall from Jack and Peggy.”

“I see. Peggy never really mentioned having friends at their apartment building.”

Angie realized that she was probably being rude, but finding a strange man in the room of her—what? Best friend? Girlfriend?—was the last thing she expected after getting a rather serious phone call from the hospital telling her that Peggy had been critically injured.

Daniel rubbed at the back of his neck. “I guess I wouldn’t really say we’re friends,” he admitted. “More like acquaintances. “

Angie cocked her head in confusion, bristling slightly. “Did the hospital call you? Or did you see what happened? Where’s Jack? I’m sorry, I’m just a little confused.”

“They didn’t tell you?”

Angie shook her head in frustration. “Tell me what?” she snapped, finally reaching the end of her patience.

Daniel looked at her for a long moment before clearing his throat and looking down at his cane, turning it in his hands. “Jack’s dead,” he said quietly.

Whatever Angie had been expecting, it wasn’t that. She felt the air leave her lungs and she swayed dangerously. Daniel stood immediately and guided her into his seat, keeping his hand on her shoulder for support. She felt a wave of both shock and relief, both warring for control of her emotions. Eventually, relief won, as tears welled up in her eyes and a laugh of disbelief came tumbling from her lips.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, Daniel’s hand still on her shoulder. “I know somebody’s dead and it’s supposed to be awful, but all I can feel is happy.”

Daniel released her shoulder and pulled an extra chair around Peggy’s bed to sit down beside Angie. “After what I’ve heard and seen today, I can’t say I really blame you,” he replied, his eyes on Peggy’s sleeping form.

Angie looked over at her, really looked at her, for the first time since entering the room. She’d been so distracted by Daniel that she hadn’t had a chance to fully take in Peggy’s injuries, most of which she was sure she couldn’t even see for the bed sheets pulled up to her shoulders.

Peggy looked more fragile than Angie had ever seen her, including when she’d shown up at the diner that fateful morning. She had deep bruises developing along her left cheekbone and under both eyes from the broke nose, her lips were swollen, the bottom one split, and, causing bile to rise up in Angie’s throat, her neck held the familiar imprint of two large hands. The fingerprints stood out clearly against Peggy’s skin, each one purple from where Jack had tried to take her from this world, take her from Angie.

Looking away, Angie cleared her throat, tears stinging her eyes. “What, um,” she stammered. “What happened?”

Daniel looked away, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Well,” he began, clearing his throat with a cough. “I was home when I heard Jack shouting. I thought he was just yelling at the TV again, he tends to do that when he watches sports, but then I heard a female answer him. I realized it was Peggy, which surprised me, because I hadn’t seen her in weeks.”

Angie looked up at him, watching closely. If he had any suspicions about what had really been going on in that apartment for so long, he didn’t show it.

“Anyway,” he continued. “I heard some banging and then a loud crash, so went to see what was going on. I found Jack on top of Peggy, strangling her. I tried to pull him off of her, but he struggled, turned around and clocked me pretty hard.” He pointed, indicating the bruising. “I got back up, pulled my handheld out. He tried to grab it and we struggled again…” He trailed off for a minutes, his brow furrowing. “Everything’s pretty fuzzy after that.”

He looked back up at Angie, whose hand was covering her mouth, eyes wide.

“I wish I could have avoided it, but there wasn’t anything else I could have done,” Daniel admitted.

“Are they going to charge you for anything?” Angie asked, laying a hand on his arm.

Daniel shrugged. “I don’t know,” he replied. “They said they’ll be opening an investigation; see what the evidence against Jack is, make sure I was within my rights.”

Angie went rigid. “That means they’re going to want to interview Peggy, doesn’t it?” she asked quietly.

“Probably,” Daniel nodded sadly. “I don’t know how soon, but she’s the one who knew Jack best. They’ll definitely want to talk to her.”

Angie nodded, not really knowing what else to say. They sat in silence for several minutes, Angie’s eyes never leaving Peggy while Daniel twisted his cane in his hands. Finally, he braced it against the ground and pushed himself from his chair.

“Peggy seems to be in good hands, now,” he said. “So I think I’m gonna go and give you some privacy.”

Not having the energy to argue, Angie just nodded again and stood up to wrap Daniel in a tight hug, catching him by surprise.

“Thank you for saving her,” she whispered shakily.

When they pulled away, Daniel smiled and squeezed her shoulder encouragingly. Before turning to leave, he pulled out a card and handed it to Angie. She looked down at it.

“Daniel Sousa,” she recited. “Veterans Affairs Disability Lawyer.”

“That’s my card,” he explained. “My number is at the bottom. Let me know how she’s doing, okay?”

Angie smiled, touched by his concern. “Of course,” she replied.

With a final nod, Daniel left, his footsteps fading away into the noise of the hospital, leaving Angie alone with nothing but silence and her thoughts. She gazed at Peggy with unfocused eyes, her mind relaying the last few hours. She knew, somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind, that this was not her fault, but as she gazed at the battered woman in the bed, her heart accused otherwise. She should never have let Peggy enter that apartment, or even leave her sight. She dropped her head into her hands as her shoulders began to shake with silent sobs.

The minutes passed by at an agonizing crawl. Mostly, Angie sat and imagined all the hundreds of scenarios in which this whole day could have gone differently. Only this morning they were flirting and making pancakes together. How had things gone so wrong so quickly? Four times, every hour on the hour, a nurse came in to check Peggy’s vitals and her concussion. Each time, Angie stared without seeing, watching the nurse’s hands work in meticulous fashion, her mind far off from the stagnant hospital room. When she left, the nurse would give Angie a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, shaking her from her thoughts momentarily, before falling back into her stupor.

A while after the nurse’s fifth routine visit, Angie was replaying their last conversation in her head for what felt like the thousandth time when a barely audible whimper caught her attention. Her head snapped up to look at Peggy. Her fingers were twitching slightly and she had a pained expression on her face as her eyelashes fluttered. Angie sat up and leaned forward, but did not reach for Peggy’s hand, not wanting to cause her distress as she woke up.

“Peggy?” she called softly, trying to coax her awake.

Peggy’s eyes blinked open slowly, adjusting to the florescent lights shining over her bed. She turned her head slowly from side to side, taking in her surroundings. Though she seemed confused, she was at least calm. The pained expression was still on her face, and Angie made a mental note to say something to the nurse once Peggy’s disorientation went away. She waited patiently while Peggy slowly came out of the fog and became more of aware of where she was. Eventually, she turned her head and her eyes fell on Angie, multiple questions evident in the brown irises.

“You’re in intensive care,” Angie explained quietly. “They brought you here after…what happened at the apartment.”

Peggy’s eyes widened slightly as she looked around a little more frantically.

“He’s not here,” Angie reassured her, understanding her panic. “You’re safe now.”

She reached out instinctively to brush a lock of hair from Peggy’s face, but the movement startled Peggy, causing her to recoil in fear. Angie retracted her hand immediately, guilt evident in her wide eyes. She knew she shouldn’t be hurt by the reflex, that it was a natural reaction to what Peggy had been through and she should have known better; but the way that Peggy was looking at her, like a cornered animal, twisted at her heart.

“I’m sorry,” Angie whispered, staring down at her hands. “I shouldn’t have, not after what’s just happened. I wasn’t thinking.”

They fell back into silence for several moments, before Peggy took a slow breath and tried to clear her throat, wincing at the pain from the bruising on her windpipe. She opened and closed her mouth a few times but no sound came except for a high-pitched scraping from the back of her throat

Angie reached slowly for the cup on the tray in front of her and extended it at a safe distance, wary of Peggy’s personal space. Peggy reached forward with look between gratitude and apology on her face and took the cup from Angie’s hands, slipping the bent straw between her swollen lips. She managed a few sips before the pain of swallowing forced her to stop and handed the cup back. Angie set it back down and folded her hands in her lap. It was several minutes of silence before Angie realized that someone should know that Peggy had woken up.

“Um, I’m just gonna go let them know that you’re awake, okay?” she said, ducking out to fetch a nurse.

After a nurse checked her vitals, they called in Dr. Jarvis, who gave Peggy a thorough inspection, conducting several tests to check her cognitive abilities. Once he was satisfied, he closed his chart with a smile.

“Well, Miss Carter, by all accounts, your neurological functions seems to be just fine,” he assessed. “We’re going to keep you here for about a week to monitor your injuries and keep an eye on that concussion, but I don’t see why you shouldn’t make a full recovery.”

After a few more minutes, giving Peggy various instructions and limitations on movement and speaking, he exited the room, leaving them alone once again. They sat in tense silence for a few minutes, Angie not knowing what to say and Peggy unable to speak. The brunette kept her head bowed and picked at the thin hospital blanket across her lap. Angie could tell her mind was racing; she had that familiar look of concentration on her face, and Angie longed to know what she was thinking. After a few more long minutes, she got an idea. She looked around the room until her eyes landed on Peggy’s purse, which had been brought in when they’d moved her into the room. Standing slowly, so as not to alarm Peggy, she walked carefully over to the bag and rummaged around until she found what she was looking for. Pulling out the phone, Angie turned back toward the bed and extended the device toward Peggy, holding up her own to get her meaning across.

Getting the hint, Peggy smiled and reached out for the phone. Angie handed it to her and settled back in her seat, waiting patiently for Peggy to initiate any kind of conversation. Angie didn’t know what she was and was not comfortable talking about, and after the debacle with the hair, she wasn’t about to force anything. She watched Peggy glance at her and then begin tapping at her phone, erasing her message and beginning again more than once, until Angie’s felt a gentle vibration in her hand. She smiled at Peggy, but the other woman wasn’t looking at her. Instead, she was playing with the sheets again. Confused, Angie swiped her phone open and was met with two words that caused her stomach to flip.

_I’m sorry._

Angie’s head whipped up to look at Peggy, but she still refused to look at her. She turned back toward her phone and quickly typed out a reply. _What in the world could you be sorry for?_

Peggy shook her head before replying. _If I had just listened, if we had just called the police instead, we wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t have put you through all of this worry. I’m so sorry._

Angie watched her carefully, taking in the guilt that was evident on her face. _Peggy, listen to me; none of this was your fault._

Peggy just shook her head again. _I should have never dragged you into all of this._

Angie just sighed quietly, a sad smile on her lips. _If you hadn’t, you would still be back there with Jack._ She stopped before hitting send, continuing her afterthought. _And I wasn’t about to give up on you; I never would have forgiven myself. I knew that brave woman was in there somewhere._

Peggy finally smiled, a genuine smile and finally looked up at Angie with gratitude. _How long have I been here?_

Angie looked up at the clock and quickly did the math in her head. _About six and a half hours._

Peggy’s eyes widened at the message and she thought for a moment. _Who called the hospital?_

_Your neighbor Daniel heard the noise and came to help. He’s very nice, he was here earlier._

Peggy smiled and nodded before a look of panic took over her features. _Jack! What happened to Jack, do the police have him? Is he in the hospital, too?_

Angie swallowed, not really sure how to go about this subject with her. _No he’s not here and the police don’t have him, but you don’t have to worry about him anymore, Peg._

Peggy just shook her head desperately. _But what if he comes back?_

Angie tapped out a reply slowly, understanding that Peggy truly did not remember being rescued by Daniel. _You don’t remember, do you? And no one told you, of course not, you’ve been asleep._

 _Know what? Is everything okay?_ Peggy tried to meet Angie’s gaze, but now it was Angie’s turn to avoid looking at her. Peggy tried again. _Angie, what’s happened?_

Angie gazed at her phone for a moment before looking back up, not wanting this information to come from a text message. She reached her hand forward, palm up: an open invitation. Peggy hesitated for a moment before she gently took it.

“Peggy,” Angie began slowly, willing herself to keep eye contact. “There’s really no other way to say this; Jack’s dead.”

Angie felt Peggy’s hand tighten around hers. Her mouth fell open and she could see the tears well up in her eyes. Peggy’s free hand flew to her chest as sharp gasps were starting to tumble from her lips. Angie scooted her chair as close as she dared without startling Peggy again and squeezed her hand. Slowly, she reached her other hand out slowly, keeping her eyes on Peggy, and began to rub light circles into her back, trying to calm her. Whereas Angie had felt relief at this news, it seemed like Peggy’s first reaction was shock. Eventually, she was able to get her breathing under control and wipe the unshed tears from her eyes. She leaned back against her pillows and took a final steadying breath, closing her eyes. Angie moved her chair back from the bed, trying to take her hand back, as well, but Peggy tightened her hold.

Eventually, Peggy opened her eyes again, lifting her head back up to look at Angie, a familiar question in her eyes. _What happens now?_

Angie smiled. “Don’t worry about tomorrow, Peg,” she said quietly. “The only thing that matters about Jack right now is that you’re free.” 

Free. Peggy tested the word in her thoughts. It felt almost foreign to her, like something she was familiar with, but never thought she’d actually experience. She laid her head back down and repeated the word a few more times in her head. It wasn’t until she turned back toward Angie that a smile finally worked it’s way onto her lips, as she looked at the woman that had been her savior and was here with her now. Finally, there were no specters from her past to haunt them. She was free.

They were free.

 

* * *

 

Over the course of the week, Peggy was treated for her various injuries. Her nose had been reset and splinted for a few days, she’d been put in a sling for her collarbone, and her ribs were freshly wrapped every morning. Suffice to say Peggy looked a bit worse for wear, but she did finally gain her ability to speak again after three days. It was rough, and barely more than a whisper, but it made communicating much easier. Angie, more or less, stayed at the hospital, only leaving to shower and get a change of clothes. The nurses had even brought in a small cot for her to sleep on.

Peggy was slowly making improvements in her comfort level with touch again, though she still flinched at loud noises or sudden movements. Angie remained patient with her, only making contact when given permission and being sure not to make any abrupt movements. Toward the end of the week, Peggy felt comfortable enough with her that Angie no longer needed to ask first, but she still made sure that she did everything within Peggy’s line of vision.

Dr. Jarvis checked in with her twice a day, in addition to the nurses’ routine rounds. On the last day, he came to see Peggy off personally. Peggy was put into a new sling and the wrap around her ribs was changed. After Angie received instructions for how to help Peggy at home and a follow up appointment was schedule for two weeks, they finally exited the hospital, hand in hand.

They spoke sparingly on the way home, though Angie felt a sense of bliss come over her when Peggy leaned into her during the cab ride back to the apartment. Fifteen minutes later, Angie was paying their fare and they were standing on the sidewalk outside of their building. Angie extended her arm toward Peggy, who stepped into it gratefully, resting hers across Angie’s shoulders, as they slowly made their ascent up the stairs to their apartment.

The door swung open and Angie, with her hand gently resting on Peggy’s lower back, led her through the room and over to the couch. She propped her up against a few pillows and draped a fleece throw over her legs and handed her the television remote.

“You want some tea?” Angie asked. “Or are you hungry?”

Peggy shook her head. “Tea is fine,” she rasped.

Angie smiled and walked back toward the kitchen, Peggy clicked on the television, settling on a rerun of Friends. She watched without really taking in any of the plot, too lost in her thoughts to focus on whatever was happening on the screen. She began to replay it all in her head, from the night that she first stepped into that diner up to now, imagining all the things she might have done differently before she realized that she wouldn’t change a thing. She had Angie now, someone who really loved her, and Jack was nothing more than a memory.

Jack.

Peggy had not lived in a world without him for so long that she wasn’t sure how to act. There would be no more looking over her shoulder, no more simmering worry that he would one day come bursting through the apartment door to drag her back to him, no more crippling fear hanging over her like a thunderstorm.

 _How in the world did I get here?_ she wondered. _And what happens now?_ She shook her head, telling herself she needed to stop asking that question. Instead, she turned her head to look back toward the kitchen, where she watched Angie scoop tea leaves into an infuser. She smiled fondly, remembering when Angie had run out and bought the loose tea after Peggy had told her she preferred it to teabags. So enraptured was she by this woman doing such a mundane task, yet acting as if it were the most important thing in the world, that she came to find that it did not really matter what came next, so long as she had Angie beside her when it did. Hell had nothing on the places that she had been, but Heaven couldn’t even compare to the place where she was now.

She turned back toward the television with a smile, waiting a few more minutes, until she heard Angie’s footsteps coming toward her and turned at her approach. Angie held the mug out carefully as Peggy took it from her hands and inhaled.

“Peppermint,” Peggy said. “My favorite.”

“And I added a little honey for your throat,” Angie said affectionately, leaning against the arm of the couch.

“You really are your namesake, darling,” Peggy grinned, causing Angie to blush.

Angie watched silently as Peggy lifted the mug to her lips, taking a long sip with a contented sigh. She reached over and scratched lightly at the spot between Peggy’s shoulder blades and smiled down at her serenely. She bent down and nuzzled the top of her head, breathing in the scent of the hospital’s shampoo, before pressing a kiss to her hair.

“I’m glad you’re home,” she breathed.

Peggy smiled and reached up to grab Angie’s hand and laced their fingers together.

“As long as I’m with you,” she murmured, smiling. “I’m always home.”

With a light tug on her arm, Peggy drew Angie down to her level and cupped her cheek.

“ _Ti amo_ ,” Peggy whispered, lightly pressing her lips to Angie’s.

“ _Ti amo anch’io_ ,” Angie grinned into the kiss, squeezing Peggy’s fingers gently. She let go and settled down on the other end of the couch, laying Peggy’s feet across her lap. As they sat together, watching television as Angie lightly rubbed her feet, Peggy was overwhelmed with that sense of domesticity that she had so often longed for with Jack.

Jack. Again, she couldn’t keep him from her thoughts. She supposed it was normal, as she’d spent a significant amount of her life with him. What he’d done to her would always stick with her, but there was something niggling in the back of her mind that she couldn’t let alone. She brooded for several minutes, before a realization came to her, turning the blood in her veins to ice.

“Angie,” she choked out, setting her tea on the coffee table with a trembling hand, swinging her feet to the floor. Angie turned to her, alarmed.

“Peg?” she asked, turning fully to face her. “What’s wrong? Does something hurt? Talk to me, honey.”

Peggy just shook her head, taking gulps of air, as if she were getting too much and not enough at the same time. She began to tremble and tears pooled in her eyes. Quickly removing herself from the couch, Angie knelt before Peggy, but did not touch her. Whatever was going on, the last thing she needed was forced affection.

“Peggy,” Angie tried again. “Talk to me, _cara mia_ , what’s going on?

With her hand on her chest, Peggy managed a single word “Jack,” she gasped.

Angie stayed still, but her eyes flooded with concern. “What about Jack?” she coaxed. “Did you have a flashback?”

Peggy shook her head violently. “Jack,” she repeated. “He’s dead.”

Now Angie was well and confused. She perched herself back on the edge of the couch and watched Peggy carefully.

“Yes, he’s gone,” she confirmed, waiting for Peggy to say more.

The tears began to slip down Peggy’s cheeks. “He was a police officer,” she continued. “They’ll want to open an investigation.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement.

Angie’s eyes closed in discontent. She had hoped to avoid this topic for at least a few days, giving Peggy some time to readjust to life in the apartment and come to terms more fully of a life and a world without Jack as a constant presence. But Peggy was a journalist; she knew the death of an officer would warrant an investigation. Angie just wished she wouldn’t have realized it so soon.

“Yes,” Angie conceded.

“And they’ll want to talk to me,” Peggy continued, her eyes boring a hole into the wood floor.

“Most likely,” Angie nodded.

Peggy’s breathing picked up again and tears fell more freely from her eyes.

“Angie,” she whimpered. “I can’t. I don’t think I can do this.”

“Peggy,” Angie said. “Look at me please.”

When she did, Angie continued.

“I’m not saying this is going to be easy,” she conceded. “But I will be with you every step of the way, and I will protect you from everything that I can. You will not go through this alone.”

Peggy gazed at her intently, eyes shining with tears, looking more broken down than ever.

“You’ll stay?” Peggy asked, looking uncertain.

“For as long as you want me,” Angie nodded.

Peggy let out a heavy sigh. Angie opened her arms and, after a moment’s hesitation, Peggy moved slowly into them, shaking slightly. Angie could think of nothing more to say that could possibly soothe her, so she just held her gently and smoothed her hair. They stayed like that for so long that Angie began to wonder if Peggy had fallen asleep, but when she reached down to grab the fleece throw that had fallen to the floor, Peggy’s voice broke the silence.

“Angie?” she ventured, barely audible.

“Yeah, English?” Angie answered, using the familiar nickname as she draped the blanket over them.

“I’m scared.”

Angie thought for a moment. Peggy had a better idea of what to expect for an investigation, but this was something that was out of Angie’s element. She knew it would be hard and an emotional hell, and far too soon after what Peggy had just been put through. Angie knew she would have to be strong for the both of them and they would take whatever the gods had to give. She didn’t have a clue what was about to happen, but they would face it together.

“I know, honey, me too,” she replied honestly. “But remember what we say; one day at a time, yeah?”

Peggy nodded and closed her eyes, remembering the first time Angie had said those words to her. It felt like a lifetime ago, but their battle was just beginning.

“One day at a time,” she repeated, trying no to think about tomorrow, but of here and now, of Angie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Ti amo_ \- I love you  
>  _Ti amo anch’io_ \- I love you back  
>  _cara mia_ \- my dear/darling
> 
> This chapter gave me fits and just the worst kind of writer's block, and I'm sorry to disappear for so long after a cliffhanger like that. Also, you will notice that the chapter number has gone up to ten, so I have more story to tell than I originally planned. Unfortunately, Peggy is not quite out of the woods just yet.


	9. I Was A Heavy Heart To Carry, But She Never Let Me Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys! I'm alive! And I finally got this chapter finished! I'll explain more at the end, but I just wanted to say right off the bat how much I appreciate your patience and your politeness when I received messages asking if I was going to finish this story. You're all pretty awesome humans.
> 
> This chapter is not beta'd, so all mistakes are my own.
> 
> Chapter title comes from the song Heavy In Your Arms by Florence + the Machine.

Peggy was a wreck; there was really no other way to say it. As she lay curled up in their bed, pillow clutched to her chest and sobbing, Angie sat cross-legged beside her, hands fidgeting in her lap. This was the third time this week that Peggy had awoken from a nightmare, gasping for breath with tears streaming down her cheeks, and there was nothing Angie could do, except sit next to her and watch the woman she cared for suffer.

This had become a regular occurrence since the investigation into Jack’s death had begun. It was going on a month now, and the end seemed nowhere in sight. The police department talked with Peggy at least once a week, sometimes two, gathering all the information that they could about her relationship with Jack, her job, her childhood, Angie; anything that they seemed to think would be important to figuring out exactly what had been going on behind closed doors.

Angie went to every interview without fail. She’d had a long talk to Mrs. Fry after Peggy had been taken to the hospital and she’d used up all of her favors to get her shifts covered for that week. Though notoriously hard-assed as her boss was, Angie watched as the woman’s eyes softened and her mouth pressed into a hard line to keep her lip from trembling. So, they’d managed to work it out: On a rotating schedule, each week, one of the other girls would remain on call should anything arise and Angie need to leave for a few hours. Her shifts were always covered and she was always there for Peggy.

Today was going to be especially difficult, for both of them. They had an appointment to talk to Chief Dooley, in length, about the morning Peggy was attacked. They’d both given short statements, but this was a full interview with no stone left unturned and no detail spared. Angie knew that all of the interviews had been building up to this one, but that didn’t make it any easier. If anything, the anticipation made it worse. 

Angie sat on the bed for a little longer, staring out the window at nothing in particular. The sun was starting to come up over the skyline, lighting up the room in soft pink and orange hues. Peggy’s sobs had quieted, but tears were still slipping from her eyes and down the bridge of her nose. Angie reached forward slowly and rested her hand on the blanket covering Peggy’s calf. 

“Hey,” Angie murmured, rubbing circles into the comforter with her thumb. “I’m gonna make some breakfast. Omelettes sound okay?”

Peggy just nodded, still curled up and staring straight ahead. Angie sighed quietly. “Okay,” she said, patting Peggy’s leg gently.

Before she could so much as uncross her legs, Angie felt a hand graze her arm and looked back down to see Peggy’s brown eyes watching her. She settled back down and waited until Peggy was ready to speak.

“No ham in mine, please,” Peggy mumbled. “And extra—“

“Extra mushrooms,” Angie finished, nodding with a smile. “I remember.”

Peggy’s lips quirked up slightly as she took hold of Angie’s hand and pressed the knuckles to her lips.

“Thank you, darling,” Peggy whispered.

Angie knew that she was thanking her for more than just her breakfast order, but she left it alone, squeezing Peggy’s hand gently and rising from the bed. She pulled Peggy’s robe from the closet and laid it out before pulling her own around her shoulders.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Angie said. “Breakfast should be ready in fifteen.”

Peggy nodded and Angie made her way to the kitchen. She moved around in her usual fashion, spinning and moving with ease. Cooking was a comfort for her, with its preciseness, but also its flexibility. Though the recipes often called for specific ingredients in a specific order, the directions were not set in stone, left to the whim of the chef and their imagination. Changes could be made and recipes improved with just a pinch of spice or sugar. If she hadn’t wanted to be an actress, Angie often suspected she could have done something in cooking, perhaps even opening her own bakery. 

She was just flipping over Peggy’s omelette—no ham, extra mushrooms, with just a dash of cheyenne—when she heard soft footsteps behind her. Angie turned to see Peggy leaning against the counter, arms crossed in front of her, watching her quietly. Peggy had been much less affectionate lately, though Angie didn’t blame her in the slightest. Having to relive some of the darkest moments of your life would make anyone pull away a bit. She was just grateful that Peggy had not completely retreated into herself and still wanted her company.

“That smells wonderful,” Peggy said quietly.

Angie turned and smiled, sliding the omelette onto a plate next to her own and carrying them over to the table.

“The kettle is hot,” she said, setting out the silverware. “I thought tea would calm your nerves more than coffee.”

Peggy smiled gratefully and moved toward the stove, running her hand softly down Angie’s arm as she passed.

They ate quietly, Peggy feeling too anxious to speak and Angie not really sure what to say that could relieve her unease. When Peggy had drained the last of the tea from her mug, she rose silently, placing her dishes in the sink, and walked sluggishly toward the makeshift bedroom to change. Angie watched her go with worry etched onto her face. She sighed quietly and stood up to place her own plate and cup in the sink. With a last glance toward the bed, which was now blocked by the changing screen, Angie turned toward the bathroom to get ready before deciding on an outfit.

Hair brushed and fresh faced, she emerged from the bathroom five minutes later and walked carefully toward the bedroom. Peering around the divider, she found Peggy sitting on the edge of the bed, still in her robe, staring blankly at the wall. Frowning slightly, Angie made her way to the bed and looked down at Peggy and smoothed a hand over her messy hair.

“Take a few minutes, okay,” Angie whispered before turning toward the closet and methodically sorted through her clothes, giving Peggy a little extra time to prepare herself.

Once Angie had settled for dark skinny jeans, black ankle boots, and a light blue sweater, she turned to Peggy and, after a moment, held out her hands. Hesitating slightly, Peggy slowly reached forward and allowed Angie to pull her up from the bed. She stood in silence while Angie rummaged in the closet and finally found what she was looking for. She held up a pair of simple black slacks and a button-up salmon blouse. Peggy smiled slightly and reached for the items. As she pulled on the slacks, Angie bent down to retrieve the same pair of flats Peggy had worn the night they’d first danced together in the living room. 

She set them down, allowing Peggy to step into them while Angie slipped the blouse around her shoulders. However, when Peggy reached up to button the shirt, she hesitated, before letting her hands fall to her sides. She looked at Angie with a softness in her eyes.

“Would you mind?” she asked quietly, indicating the buttons.

At first, Angie was sure she’d misheard, but found Peggy looking back at her with a small smile. It was a small gesture, but it meant the world to Angie. She worked slowly, savoring the moment for as long as she could. Once the last button was in place, she smoothed down the fabric on Peggy’s arms, and reached for the hairbrush on the night stand.

“May I?” she asked. Peggy simply nodded and turned around to face the mirror.

Angie brushed through Peggy’s waves carefully, not wanting to hit any painful snags. As she worked, Peggy applied a light coat of concealer, to cover the circles beneath her eyes. When both were done, they remained as they were, Angie bringing her hands up to rest on Peggy’s shoulders.

“You ready?” Angie asked gently.

Peggy shook her head. “Not in the slightest,” she whispered. 

Angie offered a sympathetic look and leaned forward to press a light kiss against Peggy’s shoulder. She began to move away, but Peggy reached up and grasped at the hand on her arm.

“Stay with me?” she pleaded.

Angie stepped forward with a nod of reassurance. “For as long as you want,” she promised.

Peggy let out a slow breath and turned, taking Angie’s hand in hers. “Then let’s get this nightmare over with,” she said. Angie just nodded and led her toward the door.

They were greeted outside by a man of about Peggy’s height in a crisp suit with dark hair and a matching mustache. A pair of Dolce and Gabbana sunglasses obscured his eyes, and Angie was sure they cost more than her weekly paycheck, including tips. He held a briefcase in one hand and was looking down at his phone in the other. As they approached, he looked up and smiled welcomingly.

“My two favorite women,” he greeted boisterously.

“Oh well, that’s an honor,” Peggy rolled her eyes. “Considering you have a new favorite every other week.”

Angie snorted beside her. Howard Stark was a friend of Peggy’s through work. As a high-powered defense lawyer, and the most sought after on the East Coast, Howard had been a legal correspondent with the Times for years. He and Peggy had managed to form a friendship based on sarcasm and mutual respect. When the investigation began, Howard was the first phone call Peggy had made, and he’d dropped everything to take on her case. Though he was an arrogant womanizer, Angie couldn’t deny that he was also a loyal friend.

“You wound me, Peg,” Howard replied dramatically, clutching at his heart.

“You’ll heal,” Peggy teased with a smile.

Howard returned her smile and slipped off his sunglasses so that he could look her in the eyes.

“How you holding up?” he asked sincerely.

Peggy just shrugged. He knew she was putting on a brave face, but he didn’t want to pull at her pride. Instead, he opted for reaching forward and gently squeezing her shoulder before turning to Angie.

“Martinelli,” he nodded with a smile. “Always a pleasure to see you.”

“Stark,” she replied cheekily. “The pleasure is definitely all yours." 

Howard laughed good naturedly, enjoying the banter. Peggy looked on fondly, forgetting for a moment what had brought them all together, and just enjoyed the sight of two of her favorite people getting along so well.

“Well, as much as I wish we could stand around chatting all day, I’m afraid we do have somewhere to be,” Howard sighed, slipping his sunglasses back on. He turned toward the street where a familiar black car was waiting for them. He reached for the handle and gallantly opened the back door.

“After you, ladies,” he said, bowing them in.

The two women rode the whole way to the precinct in silent, while Howard took up most of the conversation reviewing details from past interviews and questions that would likely come up today.

“Honestly, as long as you both stick to the same story you’ve been telling, I don’t see why this shouldn’t go smoothly,” Howard finished, tucking his papers back into his briefcase. “Well, as smoothly as this kind of thing can go anyway.”

Peggy just nodded, staring straight ahead, while Angie kept her eyes on Peggy, noting the shaking of her hands and the tremble of her bottom lip. Wanting to stay discrete, Angie simply shifted her legs until their knees were touching. Peggy seemed to relax at the touch, letting her eyes slip closed for a moment and taking a calming breath. 

In what seemed no time at all, they arrived in front of the police station. Howard exited from his side quickly to open the door for the two women once again. Angie smiled amusedly.

“You know, you’re quite charming when you want to be,” Angie teased.

“Always for you two,” he winked.

They were ushered inside by one of the officers, past the lobby and down a hallway that held the interrogation rooms. While not ideal, it offered privacy and a guarantee they wouldn’t be overheard. The officer stopped at the third door, holding it open for the three of them to enter.

“The detective will be with you in a few minutes,” he said, shutting the door behind him. 

“Strange,” Howard remarked, pulling out his notes and shuffling through them. “Dooley is usually here before we are. Greets us in the lobby.”

Angie didn’t respond, but had to admit she had a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach. She glanced over at Peggy, who was staring down at the table and had her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Before Angie could say or do anything to comfort her, however, there was a single, sharp rap on the door before it opened and a woman they had never seen walked into the room. She was tall and slim, a smart black and red skirt suit clinging to her figure, and a file was tucked under her arm. Her black hair was pulled back into a low bun and her lips were painted a dangerous shade of scarlet.

“Miss Carter?” she asked, her voice higher than Angie anticipated, looking between the three of them.

Peggy nodded her head slightly and looked down at the table. The woman smiled, though Angie would have called it more of a leer, and sat down across from them, setting her file on the table.

“Wonderful,” she drawled, flipping the manila folder opened and shuffling through the papers silently. They sat, waiting for her to begin for several minutes, before Howard finally spoke up, irritated. 

“Who are you?” Howard asked with a clip in his tone. Peggy was already on edge as it was, the last thing they needed was a stranger coming in and making it worse.

The woman smiled the same maddening smirk as before and looked up. “I’m Detective Underwood, but you can just call me Dottie,” she answered, holding her hand out to shake. “You must be Howard Stark.”

“Uh huh,” Howard nodded, gripping her hand briefly. “And what happened to Detective Dooley? He’s been handling Peggy’s case from the beginning. Why the change?”

“Oh, it’s really very simple,” Dottie replied, her eyes widening innocently. “The police commissioner requested that an outsider be brought in to make sure everything was being treated in an unbiased manner. As a private detective, I have no stake in the outcome of this case.”

Angie remained silent while Howard continued to dispute Dottie’s sudden appearance. She sat back in her chair, arms crossed, scrutinizing the woman carefully. She and Peggy had liked Dooley. He was gruff and a bit tactless, but he was fair and just wanted to do his job. Angie couldn’t figure out why, but she didn’t trust Dottie; hadn’t from the moment she’d walked in the door. Though she was feigning naivety, there was a calculating chill behind that mask.

“Be that as it may,” Howard was saying. “I’ll be speaking with the judge about this.”

Dottie gave Howard other one of her condescending smiles. “You do that, Mr. Stark,” she encouraged. “But for the time being, could you be a dear and let me do my job?”

Howard sat back and grumbled unintelligibly, pulling out his notes from past meetings and a fresh pad of paper and a pen. Angie and Peggy shared an uneasy look, and Angie reached beneath the table to lace her fingers with Peggy, giving them a comforting squeeze.

With a satisfied smirk, Dottie sat back in her chair, crossed her legs, and balanced a notepad on her knee. Pen poised on the blank paper, she made a couple of markings before turning her attention back to Peggy.

“Well then,” she began in a cheery tone. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

Taking a deep breath through her nose, Peggy merely nodded.

“Alright, Miss Carter,” Dottie said, adopting a more professional tone as she looked down at the file before her. “Statements show that on the morning of the incident, you both confirm getting up for breakfast, agreeing on going to the nearest precinct to file a restraining order, and then parting ways so that Miss Martinelli went off to work, and you, Miss Carter, went back to the apartment you shared with the deceased. Is that correct?”

Remaining silent, Peggy nodded again. She could hear the scratch of Howard’s pen against his paper as his hand flew back and forth beside her. Angie’s hand remained firm in her own.

“Why had you waited so long to report anything?” Dottie continued, still flipping through the file.

Peggy took a breath before answering. “I was worried that no one would believe me,” she explained. “Jack has—had—a lot of pull as a decorated officer with a spotless record, otherwise. Who would have believed my word against his?”

“I see. And had you and Miss Martinelli slept together the night before the altercation?” Dottie asked bluntly, still not looking up.

At that, Peggy blanched and her eyes widened in shock. She opened and closed her mouth several times, but no words would come out. As Dottie looked up at her expectantly, she felt her heart rate speed up. Before she could begin to pull her thoughts together, Angie’s voice cut through her panic.

“And just what the hell does that have to do with anything?” she demanded.

Dottie finally looked up from the file. She narrowed her eyes and her lips parted in a sickly sweet smile.

“Miss Martinelli,” she practically purred, smile stretching wider. “It has quite a bit to do with everything. You see, if Miss Carter is an abuse victim, as she’s presenting herself to be, then the emergence of a physical relationship between the two of you certainly raises some suspicion.”

Angie felt Peggy’s grip tighten on her hand, her nails biting into her skin just slightly. She kept her eyes resolutely on the detective, glaring back at that toothy grin. When she did not respond, Dottie took the opportunity to continue.

“You see, in my experience, Miss Carter, it can take months for victims of abuse to feel even remotely comfortable again in sexual situations,” Dottie explained, turning her attention fully towards Peggy. “Yet, it only took you a matter of weeks. Rather unusual, wouldn’t you say?”

Both Peggy and Angie remained quiet as Dottie looked at them expectantly. Neither knew what to say or what the detective wanted from them. This was quickly turning into far more of a nightmare than either one expected. Luckily, Howard broke the silence.

“Look, detective,” he began, leaning forward. “I understand the nature of their relationship may be relevant, but when my client deemed herself ready to engage in any kind of intimacy is not. It doesn’t affect any of the other facts in this case.”

The detective appraised Howard with a scrutinizing gaze for a moment before shaking her head with a chuckle.

“While I admire your determination to protect your friend,” Dottie countered, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. “I’m afraid, in this instance, the timeline of their intimacy does affect the facts of this case. Why, it might turn out to be the most relevant piece of this whole investigation.”

The two squared off for several moments, neither willing to break eye contact. Tension filled the room before a quiet voice cut through the silence.

“Why?” Peggy half-whispered.

Dottie finally turned from Howard to look at the woman directly in front of her. “Why what, my dear?” she replied, cocking her eyebrow.

“Why does the timeline of any intimacy between us matter?” Peggy clarified, a bit more strongly, but still feeling as if she would regret asking.

The detective’s face broke out in that same, deadly smile. “Because the the course of your relationship with Miss Martinelli brings up certain suspicions about your intentions,” she explained sweetly. “In fact, it appears you may not have been entirely honest about just when the intimacy possibly started.”

“Of course I have,” Peggy answered quickly, confusion coloring her features. Dottie’s eyebrow arched in skepticism, as she flipped to a page in the file before her, studying it briefly.

“On the contrary,” she replied, tapping a nail against the paper and looking back up at Peggy. “Claims from the police station state that Jack would frequently mention that you were always out late, supposedly checking up on sources for your column. Can you confirm this as accurate?”

“Absolutely,” Peggy nodded, her eyebrows knitting together. “I am a reporter, after all, it is my job.” Dottie held up a finger to silence her and flipped to another page in the report.

“And, while some of those claims check out, further investigation shows a pattern in your Thursday nights,” she pressed, looking back up from the file. “While Officer Thompson was working late, you made weekly visits to Miss Martinelli’s diner, for almost two months before the day of the alleged domestic conflict. Without his knowledge, from what we can tell. Is that true?”

Peggy hesitated for just a moment. “Well, yes,” she admitted. “But going out for dinner to see a friend his hardly a crime.”

Dottie nodded slightly, but her eyes still held a dangerous glint. “Yes, normally, it wouldn’t be source of interest,” she explained. “However, we’ve spoken to the evening cook—Johnny, I believe his name was—and he confirmed that Miss Martinelli often insisted that he go home, that she would close up the diner.”

Dottie leaned forward on her elbows, steepling her fingertips and turned her steely gaze toward Angie. “Whatever happened between the two of you after he left each night…well, that’s completely unknown. And is certainly cause for suspicion.”

The detective smiled, waiting expectantly for either woman to provide a response. However, it was Howard who spoke up first.

“As pleased with yourself as I’m sure you are,” he bit out. “The fact that they were the only two there means that the only evidence you have to go on is their word. Unless you have explicit evidence of any kind of intimacy during Peggy’s diner visits, it’s all completely a moot point.”

Dottie appraised Howard through narrow eyes, knowing he was correct, but not inclined to admit it. Instead, she steered the conversation back to their previous line of questioning.

“Very well,” she said icily. “Let’s return to the timeline of your intimacy following your departure from the shared residence.”

Angie rolled her eyes at the formal language, but said nothing.

“After your disappearance from the apartment,” Dottie continued, turning yet another page in the file. “Several officers reported Jack coming in the following day, claiming that you’d left without notice. Yes?”

“Yes, I’ve already said that,” Peggy replied wearily, rubbing at her eyes. Angie gave her hand another comforting squeeze, but was worried about where these questions were going. 

“And your boss confirmed that you had called, claiming you were staying with a friend when you explained what had allegedly happened at the apartment,” the detective stated, Angie’s blood boiling at her airy tone. “However, by this point, it seems that friend wasn’t quite the correct word, was it?”

Peggy met her gaze, though Angie could hear the waver in her voice. Her fragile resolve was fading fast. “Not precisely, no,” Peggy conceded. “But my relationship, or whatever you want to call it, with Jack was well and over long before I made that phone call.”

“Be that as it may,” Dottie continued, not missing a beat. “Regardless of when an official relationship formed, what else would make you run to a woman you barely knew, if there weren’t feelings involved, as it appears there clearly were?” 

Peggy remained silent, knowing the detective wasn’t finished.

“Furthermore,” Dottie continued, turning her attention back to Angie. “What would make that woman take you in without a second thought, if there weren’t feelings involved? Miss Martinelli?”

“She needed help,” Angie said through gritted teeth. “She was alone and looked like she’d just gone ten rounds with a grizzly bear. I cared, and I wanted to protect her.”

Dottie looked skeptical. “You wanted to protect her, but you were perfectly okay with her returning to the scene of the alleged abuse?”

Peggy spoke up once more, the waver more prominent in her voice. “I insisted on going,” she said seriously. “Angie didn’t want me to, but I needed to return for some of my things I’d left behind.”

Dottie smirked, looking far too confident for Angie’s liking. All she wanted was for this conversation to be over; to take Peggy home and never have to see this awful woman again.

“Understandable,” Dottie shrugged. “But I find it highly unusual that you didn’t even have anybody accompany you. Surely you would have been aware that Jack would have been informed of the restraining order immediately?”

“Angie had to work,” Peggy explained. “And I didn’t want to wait, in case my courage failed me. I just wanted it all to be over.”

“I see,” Dottie drawled, her eyes glinting. “You wanted to leave it all behind once and for all?” Peggy nodded. “Well,” the detective continued. “I could certainly believe that, if it didn’t appear that you certainly seem to feel some remorse for your actions.”

Peggy’s eyes shone with confusion. “I don’t understand,” she questioned, shaking her head.

“In an earlier interview, you claim to crying when you were told of Officer Thompson’s demise,” Dottie pressed. “Why mourn a man that had treated you so cruelly, that you had run away from and just wanted to leave behind you?”

Peggy stared at her for a moment, tears stinging at the corner of her eyes. “Because, despite everything, he was still a part of my life,” she replied thickly. “Despite the abuse and the misery, he was my family, all I had in this city, for so long. And, somehow, I still cared for him, but now he’s gone and I felt partially to blame for that." 

“Exactly,” Dottie asserted, almost triumphantly. “You see, Miss Carter, that’s why the details of your relationship with Miss Martinelli is so important; because what if all of this is really just a carefully crafted act?”

Angie sat straight up, her grip tightening upon Peggy’s hand and her eyes narrowing to slits. “And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?!” she demanded harshly.

“What I mean,” the detective replied aggressively, never taking her eyes from Peggy. “Is that what if this was all just a cover for you to get out of a relationship after falling in love with someone else, another woman at that? You wanted to leave Officer Thompson, but got so in over your head that you weren’t willing to take responsibility for the mess that you’d created? So, you fabricated a story of an abusive relationship to free yourself from any accountability, but, soon, everything started to spiral out of control. So what if things just went too far and you didn’t know how to untangle all of the lies you’d spun together? What if the clumsy house of cards you’d built finally came crashing down around you? What if a man is dead and another is on trial for your utter carelessness?”

Before either of them could respond to the rapid fire assault, Howard’s fist collided with the table in rage, causing all three women to jump in alarm.

“Enough!” he roared. “My client came here to answer questions regarding the day of Officer Thompson’s death, not to have her integrity put before a firing squad.” Dottie merely regarded Howard’s outburst with a look of amused scrutiny, remaining silent.

“As far as I can tell,” Howard continued, his voice still slightly raised. “You have all the information that you need to complete this sideshow of an investigation once and for all, so my client and I will be leaving.” He stood up, motioning for Peggy and Angie to do the same. “Any further concerns can be directed toward my office. Good day, detective.”

And with that, Howard stormed from the interrogation room, Peggy and Angie following in his wake, without giving Dottie the chance for a final word. Slamming the door behind him was simply an act of personal satisfaction.

* * *

Peggy cried in bed for the rest of the day, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets and not saying a word otherwise. Dottie Underwood’s visceral attacks against her life and character had cut to the very core, and Angie found herself at a loss for words and actions. She did the only thing she could think of; she cooked. Letting Peggy have her space, Angie retreated to the kitchen to make dinner, slipping out for ten minutes to stop at the market down the block to pick up a few things.

Hoping to cheer Peggy up, Angie began to prepare Bellito di Carne, the meal they had shared the night when they’d taken the step from friends to lovers. She hoped it might take Peggy’s mind off of the day, pairing it with treacle tart, her favorite dessert.

As Angie was placing the stew on the table and the tart was baking in the oven, she heard slow, muffled footsteps behind her. She turned and saw Peggy standing on the edge of the kitchen, eyes rimmed in red behind her glasses and her favorite blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She had changed into a t-shirt and sweats and pulled her hair up into a messy bun. They stared at each other for several moments, Angie allowing Peggy the time to speak when she was ready. Instead of saying anything, however, Peggy moved toward the table and sat down, pulling the blanket more securely around her body. 

Angie smiled at her softly and returned to setting the table. She pulled two glasses from the cupboard and turned back toward Peggy.

“Wine?” she asked softly. Peggy nodded in response, still not speaking.

Angie pulled the wine from the fridge and filled the glasses, placing them and the bottle on the table. She was just putting a fresh loaf of bread on a serving tray when the silence was finally broken, causing her to turn around.

“It smells wonderful,” Peggy murmured, finally looking up at Angie, a softness in her eyes despite the exhaustion.

Angie smiled. “Thank you, it’s the beef stew,” she replied, placing the bread on the table and sitting down.

“Yes, I remember,” Peggy affirmed, the corner of her lips quirking up just slightly. “And is that treacle tart I smell in the oven?" 

Angie nodded as she ladled stew onto both of their plates. “I thought it might cheer you up a bit,” she explained shyly, picking up her spoon. “At the very least, it’s been a rough day, so a nice, warm dessert was definitely called for.”

Peggy carefully swallowed her mouthful of stew and contemplated Angie as if she were seeing her for the first time. Blushing under Peggy’s gaze, Angie cleared her throat and began to butter a piece of bread. Before she could finish, Peggy’s hand came across the table, resting gently on her forearm. Pausing her motions, Angie looked up at Peggy, finding a soft smile and unshed tears in her eyes.

“Angela Martinelli, you are a brilliant light in an otherwise dark world,” Peggy said, her voice wavering slightly. “And I’ll never understand what I did to deserve you.”

Smiling at the compliment, Angie set her knife down so that she could lace her fingers with Peggy’s.

“English,” she began quietly. “We can sit here all night and argue over who doesn’t deserve who, but, at the end of the day, I think it’s safe to say that we’re both incredibly lucky. Yeah?”

“Yes,” Peggy nodded with a grin.

“Good,” Angie replied, giving Peggy’s fingers one last squeeze. “Then let’s finish our dinner and then we can curl up on the couch with dessert and pretend the people on The Biggest Loser can see us eating.”

Full, joyous laughter erupted from Peggy. Once she’d calmed down, she picked her spoon back up and shook her head good-naturedly.

“You’re awful, you know?” she teased.

“But you love me anyway,” Angie insisted with a sparkle in her eyes.

* * *

The phone call came five days later. They’d heard nothing from the police or Howard since Detective Underwood’s blistering attack the week before. Peggy was in the bath when her cell phone began ringing on the coffee table, so Angie quickly checked on the pie she was baking in the oven before rushing to answer it. Looking at the caller ID, she saw that it was Howard.

“Hello, Howie,” Angie greeted brightly. Howard hated the nickname, so she took great pleasure in teasing him with it whenever possible.

“Martinelli,” Angie could practically hear his scowl through the phone. “Where’s Peggy, I’ve got some news for her.”

“She’s taking a bath; can I just give her the message later?”

“Angie, this is something she needs to hear now. Actually, you should both hear it.”

Howard sounded as serious as Angie had ever heard him, but his voice didn’t betray much more than that. Gripping the phone tighter, she felt an uncomfortable churning in the pit of her stomach.

“Alright,” she said. “Just a minute.”

She hit the mute button and walked over to the bathroom, knocking on the closed door gently.

“Come in,” she heard Peggy call.

Angie slipped in and closed the door behind her, holding the phone against her chest. Peggy smiled when she entered and sat up a bit straighter, her hair piled up at the back of her head to avoid getting wet, save for a few loose tendrils that framed her face.

“What’s up?” she asked. “Didn’t burn down the kitchen, did you?”

Angie scoffed good-naturedly. “No, if I recall, that’s your area of expertise.”

A laugh bubbled up from Peggy’s chest and she was the most relaxed Angie had seen her in a while, so much so that she was reluctant to ruin it with whatever Howard had waiting on the phone. Her emotions must have shown on her face, because Peggy suddenly looked serious.

“What is it?” she asked, glancing at her phone in Angie’s hand. “Who’s on the phone?”

Angie sighed and sat down on the floor beside the tub. “It’s Howard,” she replied. “He wants to talk to you and he wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

Peggy just stared at her for a moment. “I-is it serious?” she asked, pulling her knees up to her chest.

“He didn’t say,” Angie shook her head. “Just that it was important.”

Peggy nodded slowly, but didn’t say anything. Angie knew she couldn’t keep Howard waiting forever, but Peggy needed time.

“Do you want me to have him call back later?” she asked. “Give you time to process and prepare?”

Peggy thought a moment, but ultimately shook her head. “I’d rather just get it over with, whatever it is,” she murmured, looking down before lifting her eyes back up to Angie. “Will you stay?”

Angie smiled and rose up on her knees to press a kiss to Peggy’s forehead. “Of course,” she assured, lifting up the phone. “Ready?”

Peggy reached forward and grabbed Angie’s hand in her soapy, wet one. “As I’ll ever be."

Angie squeezed her fingers and hit the unmute button on her phone. “Alright, Howard, I’m back and Peggy’s with me, so tell us what’s going on before we both lose our minds.”

“Are you two sitting down?” Howard asked cryptically.

Angie looked over at Peggy in the tub and down at the tiled floor beneath her and grinned despite herself. “In a manner of speaking, yes.”

“Good,” Howard replied. “Because this one’s a knock out.”

“Oh for the love of God, just tell us what the bloody hell is going on!” Peggy burst out impatiently.

“Alright, alright, take it easy, Peg,” Howard placated. “Just got a call from the DA’s office. The police department wrapped up their investigation this morning and you’re being exonerated.”

Angie felt the churning in her stomach burst into a thousand fluttering butterflies. She looked over at Peggy, whose mouth had dropped open and eyes had glazed over with tears. Angie kept a tight hold on the hand in hers and directed her attention back to the phone.

“You’re—you’re sure?” she asked, sitting up a bit straighter.

“Enough to bet on it,” Howard replied. “Peggy’s been cleared of any wrongdoing and Daniel has also been acquitted. The official report will state that Jack’s death was justifiable homicide, on the grounds of self-defense.”

Angie looked at Peggy, who had not moved or spoken since Howard’s announcement. She could hardly believe the words that he was saying, searching her thoughts for any flaw in the judge’s decision. She thought back to the previous week. To sharp words and deadly smiles on sin-red lips.

“But what about that Detective Underwood?” Angie argued, feeling Peggy squeeze her hand tightly. “She ripped Peggy to shreds, what could have changed?”

They heard Howard let out a long breath on the other line. “I wondered about that, too,” he replied, an edge in his voice. “So I did some digging, made a few calls. Turns out the city commissioner had been aware of the rumors of Jack’s behavior for years, even before Peggy. Last thing he wanted was a scandal, so he went over Dooley’s head, yanked him from the investigation, and brought in this Underwood woman."

By this time, the pieces had begun to fall into place in Angie’s mind. “He hired a private detective, offered her a good amount of money, probably,” she bit out between clenched teeth. “And her job was to deflect any wrongdoing off of the police department and onto someone else, in this case, Peggy.”

“Bingo,” Howard confirmed. “Wanted to paint Peg as some sort of opportunist who got in a little over her head.”

“So, what changed?” Angie repeated, glancing over a Peggy again, who still had not moved. “How did the judge find out?”

“Well, turns out, for a cop, the commissioner is pretty careless,” Howard replied, amusement in his voice. “When Dooley was pulled without explanation, he decided to do a little research of his own. Managed to find a deleted email between the commissioner and Underwood confirming the deal. He sent it to me and I took it to the judge.”

Angie was so happy; she could have danced around the room, but managed to restrain herself. Though she did make a mental note to make a visit down to Detective Dooley’s office to thank him personally. She was brought back to reality when Howard’s voice broke the silence.

“So, what do you think, Peg?” he asked soothingly. “Are you there? You’ve been pretty quiet.

Angie turned her eyes to Peggy, who looked as though she was still struggling to understand what had just happened. With an encouraging squeeze from Angie’s hand, Peggy cleared her throat. “Yes,” she replied, hoarsely. “I’m here. Howard…I-I don’t know what to say.”

Howard cut her off gently. “You don’t have to say anything, Peg,” he assured her. “It was more than my pleasure. Now, you and your girl celebrate on your own tonight, and I’ll give you a call later this week about getting together for drinks and an outrageously expensive dinner. My treat, okay?” 

“Okay, that sounds wonderful,” Peggy answered with a smile. “And Howard, thank you. For everything.”

“Anything for you, Peg,” Howard responded softly, then addressing Angie warmly. “Martinelli—Angie—you take care of her until then.”

Angie smiled. “Always do,” she said, giving Peggy a wide smile. “Talk with you later. 

When she hung up, she turned her full attention to Peggy, who looked a little more relaxed, but, judging by the unshed tears in her eyes, was still slightly overcome by the turn of events that had just occurred.

“Hey, why don’t I give you some time?” Angie suggested gently, letting go of Peggy’s hand to play with the wisps of hair at the back of her neck. “You can process all of this, and, when you’re ready, you can come out and we’ll spend the rest of the night on the couch. Sound alright?”

Peggy nodded gratefully. Angie stood and leaned over the tub to place a firm kiss on the top of Peggy’s head.

“Don’t take too long,” Angie teased, as she walked toward the door. “Biggest Loser is on tonight and we still have some ice cream in the freezer to go with the pie.”

She winked before closing the door behind her, relishing in Peggy’s quiet laughter as she went.

The bathroom door opened back up about fifteen minutes later, and Peggy emerged in a pair of fleece sweats and an old Star Wars t-shirt. Her hair was still pulled back and she looked much more at ease than she had a little bit ago, the full extent of Howard’s phone call finally sinking in and taking a weight from her shoulders. Angie was just making her way to the couch with two plates full of pie and ice cream when she entered the room.

“Hey, _tesoro_ ,” she smiled, kissing Peggy’s cheek as she passed. “I’ve got the dessert and there’s already wine on the coffee table.”

Peggy smiled in appreciation. “Someday you shall cease to amaze me, my darling,” she complimented as she followed Angie toward the living room and pulled her down against her on the couch. “But it seems today is not that day.”

“Flatterer,” Angie teased, turning to steal a quick kiss and hand Peggy one of the plates. Peggy didn’t reply, just grinned wider.

They settled into the couch to watch the television, digging into their dessert, and making the odd comment here and there as they watched Jillian Michaels push her team through an obstacle course.

“Ugh, she’s so gorgeous isn’t she?” Angie said around a mouthful of ice cream. “I mean, a total hardass, but gorgeous, right?”

Peggy wasn’t even watching the television, instead keeping her gaze on Angie, enjoying her comments and expressions much more than the program. “Yes, she is,” she replied quietly.

Angie turned to say something else only to fall silent when she realized that Peggy hadn’t been talking about what they were watching. A blush dusted her cheeks and she reached out to grab Peggy’s hand, tugging her forward lightly. As Peggy met her halfway, Angie reached up to thread her fingers through the dark brown hair that she loved so much. Without a word, their lips met. It was soft and easy, the kind of kiss that is confident that there would be all the time in the world for more.

As they pulled back and she grinned at Angie, whose eyes were alight with adoration, Peggy reveled in the realization that she had finally— _finally_ —found the right partner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _teroso_ = treasure
> 
>  
> 
> Sooo...life got pretty complicated this past year. I've been dealing with some severe mental health challenges that affected me both professionally and personally. Pretty much everything took a back seat to me just trying to get past everything and get better again, but I always had this story in the back of my head; I didn't forget. 
> 
> As I said earlier, I so greatly appreciate your patience, it has meant the world to me. There will be an one more chapter, an epilogue, to the story, which I hope to have up in the very near future, but I won't make any solid promises as to when. Hopefully this will tide you over until then. Thank you all so much, you're amazing.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr, if you would like, at emeraldsandivy.


	10. Epilogue: The Very First Words of A Lifelong Love Letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is: the final chapter! There are more notes at the bottom, so, for now, please enjoy the conclusion of Heavy In Your Arms!
> 
> Chapter title comes from the song I Choose You by Sara Bareilles.
> 
> Chapter is not beta'd, so mistakes are mine.

Angie dashed around the apartment in a panic while Peggy sat on the couch, flipping absentmindedly through one of Angie’s latest scripts. There were three on the coffee table, prospects sent by her agent. After two years of bit parts that slowly turned into featured roles, Angie was finally getting her due and being pursued for possible leads in some new up and coming musicals.

“I don’t know, love, they’re all great shows,” Peggy said from her perch on the couch as Angie sped past her toward the closet. “I rather like this one about the pregnant waitress.”

“Eh, I dunno, English,” Angie puffed as she darted back through the living room, en route to the bathroom. “As gorgeous as the music is, can’t say I’m too eager to get back into a diner uniform. Even if the pay is much better.”

Peggy snorted, both at the comment and watching her girlfriend, ever the procrastinator, run back and forth like a madwoman.

“Darling, remember an hour ago, when I suggested that you may want to start getting ready?” Peggy teased, smiling as she picked up another script.

“I know, Peg,” Angie practically whined, her voice drifting into the living room. “I’m so sorry, but I’m almost ready, I promise.”

“Well, no worries,” Peggy replied, smile growing wider as she read through the second script. “Truth be told, we still have half an hour. I knew if I’d given you the correct time, we actually would be running late.” 

Angie’s head poked out of the bathroom, an adorable pout on her lips. “I don’t know if I should be insulted or appreciative,” she deadpanned, tilting her head slightly.

Peggy simply looked up, arching her eyebrow at Angie and quirking her lips.

“Yeah, okay, you’re right,” Angie conceded, slipping back into the bathroom.

“And I never tire of hearing it, my love,” Peggy responded playfully, turning back to the script in her hand. She flipped through it patiently, stopping here and there to read dialogue or skim through a song. It seemed like a fairly typical princess story, though Peggy did find the actual historical background of it intriguing.

“What about this one?” Peggy called without looking up. “The one about the lost Russian princess? Seems like a really great part, with good themes. Not to mention you’d get to play royalty.” 

Warm hands suddenly slid themselves onto Peggy’s shoulders, causing her to gasp in surprise and violently jump away.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry, Peg,” Angie cringed, pulling her hands back as Peggy turned around to face her with wide eyes. “I thought you knew I was behind you.”

Peggy took a small, calming breath before looking back at Angie with a reassuring smile. She still started at some sudden noises and unexpected touches, but Peggy had come a long way in the past two years, and she knew that Angie would never frighten her unintentionally. She reached up and took hold her girlfriend’s hand. 

“It’s okay, darling,” Peggy said, kissing Angie’s knuckles. “It was just an accident, I’m alright.”

Angie watched her with doubtful eyes. Even though it had only happened a handful of times, she still felt horribly guilty whenever she startled Peggy.

“Are you sure?” she asked anxiously. “I swear I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry, I should have realized that I—“

“Angie,” Peggy interrupted, bringing her other hand up to grip Angie’s in both of hers. “I’m okay, I promise.” 

There was a beat of silence, a look of reassurance and understanding passing between them, before Peggy noticed Angie’s entire appearance beyond her eyes and smiled. She took in the emerald green cocktail dress, which made the blue in Angie’s eyes pop, and the soft curls that hung loose around her shoulders. Peggy felt her heart rate speed up at the sight of the woman in front of her.

“You look absolutely stunning,” she complimented, standing and pulling Angie around to the front of the couch. The uncertainty left Angie’s eyes and was replaced with a wide, bright smile.

“You ain’t so bad yourself, English,” she replied, taking in Peggy’s cerulean dress. It fit her perfectly, without being obscene, and flowed freely just below her knees. Her hair, much longer now, fell down her back with a gentle curl at the ends. “With a date like you, I’m gonna be the luckiest girl in the room." 

“Keep talking like that, darling, and it won’t be the only room you get lucky in, tonight,” Peggy teased with a wink, resting her hands on Angie’s waist.

Angie bit her lower lip and ran her fingertips lightly up Peggy’s arms. “We could always just skip the party and jump right to that part, if you want,” Angie prompted hopefully.

Peggy chuckled and pulled away from Angie, reluctantly, to grab their purses. “As tempting as the idea is,” Peggy smirked, handing Angie her clutch. “It would be rather rude for one of the honorees of the fundraiser to skip out last minute.”

Angie let out a playful, dramatic sigh, but conceded, as they left the apartment.

 

* * *

 

The fundraiser was a huge success, packing the Plaza with various celebrities, business people, and journalists across multiple platforms. The success of Peggy’s series of columns addressing the Syrian refugee crisis had inspired a handful of activists, led by none other than Howard Stark, to spearhead a fundraiser for the Children of Syria foundation.

Though she was not asked to give a speech, Peggy was being honored for her column’s role as the inspiration for the fundraiser, with the donation of the money raised being given in her name. Angie couldn’t have been more proud of her and what her work had helped accomplish.  

As a result of so many journalists being present, Peggy spent a majority of the evening in conversation with fellow writers that she knew one way or another. Angie learned very quickly that the journalism world was about as small as the theater world. If you hadn’t worked with someone before, you definitely knew someone who had.

Though she mingled with colleagues and friends around the room, Peggy seldom let go of Angie’s hand the entire time. She gently led her through the crowd, from person to person, always introducing Angie as her “better, lovelier half” with a radiant smile. Angie was used to the compliments, but something about Peggy’s clear pride in her around her contemporaries caused a light blush to dust across her cheeks throughout the evening. The attention from Peggy was not unusual, but she seemed to be making a special effort tonight.

Though the fundraiser was still in full swing a few hours later, once Howard had given his speech and Peggy was acknowledged, she and Angie decided to slip out into the warm New York night and head home. With only nine blocks between them and the apartment, they decide to walk back, hand in hand, enjoying the atmosphere of the city. Peggy had a knowing smile on her lips the entire time, but, no matter how many times Angie asked, she would simply respond with “I’ll tell you when we get home” and not say another word.

Within twenty minutes, they were finally reached their building, kicking their shoes off as soon as they got through the apartment door. Angie turned toward Peggy expectantly, who, without a word, guided her over to the couch and sat her down. Walking over to the stereo, Peggy quickly deposited a disc and turned to face Angie.

“Close your eyes, I have a surprise for you,” Peggy grinned mischievously.

Angie gave her a suspicious look, but, nevertheless, closed her eyes and folded her hands in her lap. She waited a few moments, Peggy probably making sure that her eyes were, indeed, closed, before she heard the sound of a button being pushed on the stereo and muffled footsteps, as Peggy walked toward the bedroom. Angie felt her moved past her, as the first strums of music filled the apartment.

_Let the bough break, let it come down crashing_  
_Let the sun fade out to a dark sky_  
_I can't say I'd even notice it was absent_  
_‘Cause I could live by the light in your eyes_

When Angie recognized the song, her heart began to quicken, wondering if this meant what she thought it might. She so desperately wanted to open her eyes, but she remained still, keeping her promise not to look, while her heart beat wildly in her chest. Finally, after what felt like hours, she heard quiet footsteps and felt the couch dip slightly as Peggy sat back down. A soft “Angie” prompted her to open her eyes, and what she saw when she did caused tears to gather at their corners, blurring her vision slightly.

Peggy was facing her, like nothing was different, except for the small, velvet box sitting on the coffee table in front of them. Before Angie could say anything, Peggy grabbed both of her hands in a nervous grip.

“Peggy—“ Angie breathed, but was quieted by a gentle finger against her lips.

“My love, I have been practicing this in my head all evening, so I hope you’ll forgive me if I beg you to let me go first,” Peggy spoke softly.

Angie blushed and nodded, tightening her hold on Peggy’s hands. Smiling widely, Peggy took a deep breath before she began. 

“My darling—my beautiful, wonderful angel—from the moment I first stepped into that diner over two years ago, I was lost to you. I’d wandered in, for simply a few hours’ respite, never expecting to meet the person who would forever change my life. The truth is, I’d given up on miracles. I’d given up on the hope that a dashing knight in shining armor would come and sweep me away from everything, that I’d finally have a chance at real happiness. Then you, my love, took me completely by surprise, and soon I knew that my hero had come for me, not brandishing a flashy shield, but a warm smile and a hot cup of tea." 

Angie giggled, the tears that had gathered in her eyes slipping down her cheeks. Peggy brushed them away, smiling as she continued, her tone becoming slightly lower, more serious.

“And when I found myself in need, with nowhere else to go, I ran toward you without a second thought, and you didn’t even hesitate. You guided me into the safest of harbors when I feared I might drown in the brutal storm that had become my life. You became my strength and foundation, and, only because of you, was I able to rebuild my life from the rubble laying around me. You never gave up on me, and you wouldn’t let me give up on myself.”

Peggy paused briefly to pick up the small velvet box, opening it up to reveal a modest diamond with small sapphires set on either side. She pulled the ring from it’s cushion, setting the box back down, and took Angie’s hand with her free one.

“My love, I mean it sincerely when I say that are my better half. You challenge me to be better, but never make me feel as if I am inadequate in any way. My life did not truly begin until you came into it, and I never want to live another day without your light.”

Peggy slid from the couch so that she was kneeling in front of Angie, almost in a reversed image of their first night together. She tightened her grip slightly and took a deep breath, holding the ring between them.

“Angela Rosabella Martinelli, _mio sole e stele_ , would you do me the greatest honor of becoming my wife?”

Unable to contain herself any longer, Angie let go of Peggy’s hands to reach up and cup her jawline. Without a word, she gently pulled Peggy forward, pressing their lips together in a long, passionate kiss, the music echoing around them.

_Tell the world that we finally got it all right_  
_I choose you_  
_I will become yours and you will become mine_  
_I choose you_  
_I choose you_

When they parted, Peggy looked at Angie with twinkling eyes. “So, is that a yes?” she asked, smiling brightly.

Angie let out a breath of laughter and threw her arms around Peggy. “Of course, English!” she giggled tearfully, pulling back to look her in the eyes. “I’d be crazy to say no.”

Blushing slightly, Peggy slid the ring onto Angie’s finger, admiring it for a moment before looking back up at her. Her gaze never waving, Peggy pulled them both to their feet and backed slowly into the spacious area of the living room, letting their fingertips brush and then slip apart. Biting her lip in an almost shy smile, Peggy murmured a quiet “Dance with me.” Angie moved toward her without hesitation, wrapping her arms around Peggy’s waist. Peggy always liked to say that she’d finally found the right partner, but so had Angie, and she couldn’t wait to dance through the rest of their life together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _mio sole e stele_ \- my sun and stars
> 
> I can't even begin to express how grateful I am to all of you who have stuck with this story. You've been lovely and so understanding when personal issues have sidelined my writing, and I couldn't have asked for a better audience. Your grace and encouragement is what has kept me going when I could have just abandoned this project. I hope you've enjoyed this story of firsts (first original AU, first multi-chapter story, first sex scene I've ever written), and that it has been worth the long while. Whether you're new to this story, or you've been here from the beginning, you're the reason this story has persisted. Thank you, thank you, thank you!
> 
> I'm emeraldsandivy on tumblr, so please feel free to come visit!


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